


Foul Play

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Football, Alternate Universe - High School, Love/Hate, M/M, References to Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2017-12-12 10:37:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You're going to lose, Styles. Like you always do, and I'll be the one with the trophy," Louis sneers at him, arms folded across his chest. His eyes challenge Harry to rebuke, to say something that will propel them into an infinite game of 'who can make the best comeback'. </i>
</p><p>   <i>Harry raises an eyebrow at him, chuckles underneath his breath at the mere idea, before his gaze turns stern. "Yeah, in your dreams." The game is on.</i></p><p>  Louis and Harry are captains of opposing football teams; naturally they hate each other's proverbial guts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We get along so sweetly

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is. Really. I just got inspired to start writing this after seeing all those images of one direction in football shirts. Hmm. I hope you like this first chapter, the next one should be updated shortly.

 

 

 

“I take it you don’t want to just join the team that’s already happening?” Coach Simon asks him in a worried tone, already afraid of the scheming look floating in Harry’s eyes that is, of course, not good at all.

Harry sits at the opposite side of the wooden table, his hands are clenched into fists with the prospect of what he’s doing – what he’s about to begin. He never thought in all his life that he’d have the chance to be the captain of his own football team, but here he is, two seconds away from getting it.

Although, the reasoning behind all of this wasn’t exactly the most positive of things, and that he understands perfectly. But it’s not like he cares about what’s right or wrong at all.

He nods once and then again to get his point across before speaking his mind about the atrocious team (but he stops himself from becoming too spiteful because unluckily for him, their captain is a twat who Coach Simon actually thinks can play _well...wow_.)

“Yeah, I just feel like there’s some people I wouldn’t be able to get along with no matter how hard I try,” he starts, working out in his head how he’s going to convince the Coach, “And isn’t it a good idea to have friendly competition inside our own school. I think it is.” And that is true in a way, it’s not like he’s bullshitting completely. Although, he won’t swear on his life that the competition will be friendly, it’ll depend on what mood he’s in at the time…or how annoying Tomlinson is when he sees his fucking face.

Well, counting to ten doesn’t make the red anger go away, the damn liars.

The Coach seems a little more convinced than he had been at the beginning of their conversation, which is a very good start to what Harry wants to achieve. He’s just hoping he won’t catch on to the reason why he wants to start a new team when there is a perfectly good one that has apparently won the last two championships, and also has a captain that is amazing for the team. But – just to make things clear – this is coming from an outside source, not from Harry. His opinion on the captain always leads him mouthing off obscenely, so let’s not go there.

Unfortunately, Coach Simon has seen through Harry’s plan to push him away from the real reason he wants to form a new team…it’s not like he didn’t try. “This is about Louis Tomlinson, isn’t it?”

It only takes his name for Harry to growl with irritation, but that’s enough to answer the Coach’s question. He wriggles in his seat, thinking over that first day of school when he was a mere eleven year old, bright-eyed and wanting to find new opportunities at this big school. Then came the form of Louis Tomlinson, a year or so above, who told him that he played football like _his grandma_. And oh, were the gloves off at that point.

It might have been a tiny thing (and yeah, Harry probably did play like a grandma back when he was younger, but he’s perfected his skills dramatically since then) but it was enough to spur the hatred inside of him so that it would never go away. And it wasn’t like the feeling wasn’t mutual, Louis hated him too when Harry leaped onto him and bit him after that remark. However, he still swears even now that it was justified.

Harry blinks to get the memory out of his head, and he sits up straight, trying to seem as professional as a sixteen year old boy can without looking like he’s got a branch up his arse. Harry thinks he successfully pulls it off. The Coach rolls his eyes at him and Harry knows that look – he knows that he’s a second away from getting what he wants and it is only a matter of time.

The excitement is already building up immensely and he nearly leaps a feet in the air when the Coach says ‘fine then’. He grins like a mad man, refraining from jumping around the room like an idiot, because he’s not like that, he is not an idiot. Instead, he quickly says five thousand thank-you(s) (okay maybe not that much) and rushes out of the room without a second thought. Any passerby in the hallway at that time frowns at his happiness, but he can’t help himself. He spots the one person he needs to talk to at the end of the hall – his best friend who is going to join his team, if he wants, he can be the co-founder – as he rushes towards Liam Payne.

And frankly, the kid probably can already tell what Harry wants, as he’s turned around as quick as lightening to run away. It’s bogus, really, they both know that Liam wants to join the football team (the shit one) but he’s too afraid to do so because he’s a pussy and can’t handle being rejected (but that wouldn’t even happen anyway). So, the next best thing, no wait, _the best thing_ is to join Harry’s new and aspiring football team. Obviously.

Harry yanks Liam back by his cotton-white collar and the boy’s shoulders sag in defeat, turning around to face what Harry is surely about to make him do.

“I got permission!” he smiles happily, waiting for Liam to join in with his happiness.

Liam knows what he’s talking about, Harry’s been talking non-stop about it for weeks. However, it seems like he’d been hoping that he wouldn’t be involved in Harry’s escapades, but nothing ever goes the way we want it to. Liam gives back a small smile and a polite ‘That’s great’, before deciding to try and escape again because he actually cares about his education, and he’s got geography next and he likes geography. Harry is too quick for him as he grabs onto Liam’s shoulder, a hopeful expression over his face. “Be on my team?”

No matter how much Liam wants to say no, there’s no way that Harry will let him leave without agreeing.

It takes around a week for Harry to form his new team, and he’s sure that they’re capable of being a success. Of course, there’s Liam, his trusty friend who he is sure will be a great player. But the guy is a little shy and a little less ruthless and up against Louis’s football team of the brain-dead, he’d probably get crushed to a pulp.

So there were some problems too about this band of football misfits. Harry had managed to get the best people he could find, as many good players were on Louis’s team, and no matter how much he bribed them they weren’t ever going to leave. Harry had to admit that even though these were the best he could find; they were a little…risky.

“Will we have cheerleaders?” Niall Horan inquires from the back of the small room where they have formed to start their first group meeting. He sits on one of the benches with a fist in a bag of Wotsits, as he licks the cheesy flavour off the fingers of his other hand. Harry tries to stop himself from rolling his eyes and groaning, and it’s a very hard thing to do, but he manages it.

“Well, I don’t really know,” is his answer to Niall’s question, who gives him an expression like his puppy has just died, and been driven over twice.

Harry doesn’t care about the cheerleaders, because that’s not the point of what he wants, he wants to start a team and not be biased to who he lets on. He wants anyone to join because they’re allowed to, even those who suck at playing. There’s always room for improvement.  
It seems, though, that his teammates do not share his vision. Instead they all moan in unison (except for Liam who stares forlornly at the door, constructing in his mind a means of escaping) and complain about nothing in particular.

Harry has patience, he really does, but this is getting stupid. He doesn’t have to raise his voice for them to quieten down, as someone else speaks up for him instead.

“Why does there even need to be a new football team, anyway? There’s already that team captained by that Louis guy,” the boy who is talking is Nick Grimshaw, and Harry usually likes him, but he made a huge mistake in mentioning that guy’s name.

“Yeah, well, I will be a better team captain than that prick. I swear on this, if we win the next game, I’ll buy you all drinks!” he offers, thinking that the idea might spark some enthusiasm into these guys.

“Harry, aren’t you underage?” Liam points out irritatingly.

Harry glares at his friend. “Liam, don’t you know there’s such a thing called _Fake ID_?”

“But is that really a good idea, I mean what if they realise you’re not the age you say you are, what if you get thrown in jail for it, what if –“

Harry clamps a hand over Liam’s mouth in attempt to make him stop talking and surprisingly, it manages to silence him. He narrows his eyebrows at Harry, which Harry responds with a shrug and a buoyant look towards the other boys in the room.

“So?” he questions, “How about it?”

And they all instinctively agree, and Harry pretends to ignore that they’re joining his team for the booze, not for the game itself.

It’s not too long until their team is starting to train and Harry’s view of being able to win the next game finally starts to seem how it actually is – extremely farfetched. They’re working hard, and Harry’s making sure that no one’s slacking off, which he soon finds is becoming increasingly difficult – and all reasons behind this points to Niall Horan, who seems to have gone off _again_ on a quest to find food. He’s like a bottomless pit, but now is certainly not the time to let hunger take over.

Harry isn’t working them to the point of exhaustion, he’s proving to them and to himself and to the whole bloody school that this idea of his isn’t just an _idea_ , it’s a dream that is beginning to be fulfilled and he won’t stop until he’s gotten to where he wants to be.

Another plus side to all of this is that they’re all bonding brilliantly. Niall brings out the spontaneity in Liam and the other guys, but they’ve particularly bonded as good friends over the last few weeks. Harry finds Niall enlightening, the perfect pick me up in a day when he’s mad about something. He is their ray of sunshine, this he cannot argue. He may become distracted easily, but other than that Harry finds he’s beginning to like him. Even now, when they’re standing in the middle of the expanse of the seemingly large football pitch and everyone seems to be grumpy from the awful English weather, it’s Niall’s smile that saves the day.

The droplets of rain fall onto the tip of Harry’s nose, the water clinging onto his skin and turning his football shirt almost see-through. They’re no longer playing and are instead staring up at the sky and the storm clouds as if that will steer them away.

“Can’t we go inside?” Liam asks from behind him, “I’m freezing.”

Harry can hear Niall move his feet backwards and forwards in the background, a _squelching_ sound resonating and reminding him that he doesn’t need any casualties from the slippery grass. He contemplates calling it a day, because he isn’t that harsh of a captain, but is unable to say this as something else catches his eye.

“Why are they here? I booked this place for another hour,” he asks aloud as the rest of his team turn to see what he’s looking at.

Of course, getting ever closer, are Louis and his band of red-wearing dripping wet footballers. He can’t quite tell whether Louis can see him, but he’s ready to throw a fit just because he feels like it. He’s forgotten the fact that only a second ago he thought it wise to leave the pitch for the day, but that thought is non-existent in his mind, even so, the boys’ still clutch onto the hopeful prospect of a warm shower and a lie in for the weekend.

“Does that mean we’re not leaving then?” Nick inquires, a pout hinting at the edge of his lips as he kicks his already muddied football boots into the dirt.

His question is answered by the silence that soon follows, and then a groan is formed from all of Harry’s teammates, but that isn’t what he finds himself currently focused on. Louis, apparently, has finally noticed their presence on the field. Harry can see the smug look forming on his lips, his head held high as his fringe dampens and sticks to his forehead. He’s holding a football in his arms, eyes casting over Harry’s mismatched team in a way that Harry knows is nothing but judgemental. He doesn’t need to be a mind-reader to know what the older boy is thinking.

“You guys seem to have found yourself in the wrong place,” Louis’s smirk grows ever the wider, cockier by each word, “The playground is over there.”

He points over his shoulder, legs apart in a stance like an animal holding its territory. Harry takes a step forward to stand right in front of Louis, his emerald orbs gluing to the ocean eyes that are glaring back at him. He vaguely sees Louis’s best friend Zayn from the corner of his eye looking wary, but Harry’s not here to start a fight. He’s here to make a point.

“Oh no, we’re in the right place. It just seems that your amateur team has got here too early,” he snaps back, and he recognises instantly how lame a remark that was. If anything, _they_ are the amateur team, and that’s the first time that Harry’s been honest with himself since he started all of this.

Louis seems to be thinking the same thing as his eyebrows are raised. He takes a further step forward, the space between the two of them diminishing. Harry can literally feel Louis’s hot breath on his neck, a contrast to the freezing rain which is chilling him to his core. He dares not move, knowing that any slight hesitation will show defeat, and he deserves to be here. He deserves to be the one to win this staring game.

“Amateur?” Louis laughs out loud, and he glances at Harry’s players with a pierced gaze. “It looks like your lot aren’t even worthy to play against us, let alone in the actual game next month.”

To be honest, he has a point. It’s what’s been bugging Harry for a while now because he knows it is true. There are some good players, but they’re just not ready yet. Not to sound cheesy by the High School Musical drop-in, but they really had to get ‘their head in the game’.

Still, Harry hates hearing the truth come from this guy’s mouth. “You wanna bet?”

The ongoing war between the two of them is broken when Liam leans forward and speaks of his usual Liam-y sensibleness. “You know he’s right, Harry, and besides everyone’s exhausted right now,” he whispers into Harry’s ear.

Harry wishes Liam could be a bit more discreet when he whispers, because that was not worthy of being called a whisper. Of course, he doesn’t understand the act of whispering and only makes the situation far worse.

Louis’s practically leering at them, and Harry can tell he’s about to spout some other obscene thing about how unworthy his team is. He wants to be able to clamp a hand over the older boy’s mouth so he doesn’t say another word, but that is another thing that is impossible.

“Yeah, why don’t you all run along and go home like good little boys and leave the real game to the big kids, right, Harold?” Louis fixates on Harry, and it seems he knows what he’s doing.

They’ve been in the same school for around 4 years already; he knows what buttons to press to wind Harry up. Calling him Harold has always been one of them, and treating him like he’s a kid is another, which is stupid, considering that Harry’s only a few years younger than him. He wants to make a remark about how Louis has to repeat the year and how dumb he must be, but instead he resorts to pushing Louis with enough force to knock him over, and that is way more entertaining.

Louis is quite a light person so the slightly small shove is enough for him to lose his footing and tumble to the ground. They’re treating each other like they’re both in primary school, let alone teenagers in their last years of high school. But that doesn’t matter, because the fury in both of their eyes is too powerful to think logically here.

Louis’s glare becomes deadly and he doesn’t take too much time to clamber to his feet and start towards Harry in a fevering fury. Harry’s lucky that Zayn grabs onto Louis to hold him back, because otherwise he may have gotten a fist in the face.

“Calm down, Lou, it’s fine. It doesn’t matter we can come back in an hour,” Zayn tries to convince Louis as he peers over at Harry and his team apologetically.

It seems at first that Louis will not relent, but his body slacks and his hunched shoulders lower as he takes a final deep breath. Harry’s quite surprised when the older boy huffs and takes a fast step back around, storming away from him.

It is quiet between them all as they watch the other team go, and Harry starts to think of the many ways he can murder Louis without anyone noticing.

“Well,” Niall speaks up, “He seemed nice.” There was no sign of insincerity in his voice.

What Harry’s learnt in the last few days is that the saying ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ is, in most cases, very true. Because he has categorised Louis Tomlinson in his head as ‘the enemy’, he’s labelled the rest of his team as the same thing. But that is jumping to conclusions, and his hatred for Louis is different to his competitive demeanour towards Louis’s teammates.

Of course, he didn’t understand this properly until Louis Tomlinson’s best friend ambles up to him in the corridor. Instinctively, Harry thinks that Zayn is looking for a fight, and even though at the time he really isn’t in the mood (tired and exhausted equals a very grumpy Harry) he is not going to let anything get him down. So when Zayn taps him on the shoulder and Harry swings around, he frowns at him immediately, and looks over his shoulder to see if the brown haired, blue eyed boy is anywhere behind him. No sign of him in sight, thank god.

Still, Harry’s attitude is nonetheless stern. “What do you want?”

Zayn looks a little hurt, which Harry finds a little amusing, considering that his perception of the guy was someone who was a lot tougher than let’s say…Liam Payne.

“I was just wanting to ask if you…” he pauses, gaze glancing around the room as if something was about to fall on his head, or as if an assassin was about to jump out from nowhere and end his life. There are no sinister movements, only Harry becoming more confused by the moment. He taps his feet impatiently. Luckily, Zayn gets the drift.

“If you and some of the guys on your team wanted to come to my party tonight?” It’s a question, certainly not a statement. The way that he phrases it makes him sound unsure of what he is saying. Harry decides to be nice and take a step back and drop his guard. This guy didn’t seem bad at all, really. If he is inviting him and his teammates to a party, then he has to be cool. Harry’s frown immediately transforms into a winner’s smile as he nods with delight. “Sure! I’m positive the other guys would love to go too. When is it?”

That’s enough to break the ice between the two of them. Harry, however, isn’t particularly thinking of the obvious, but that doesn’t really matter at this point. Harry loves to party, and nothing’s going to stop him from getting his way.

Zayn returns his warm smile. “Tonight, it starts at 9,” he answers and hands him his address in a folded up piece of paper. He adds, almost as an afterthought, “Just make sure all of your team goes, alright?”

_Ah_ , Harry thinks, _so that’s why_. Of course, there had to be some sort of reason. It seems a slight bit odd that Zayn’s spontaneously talking to Harry and inviting his team to his party. Harry’s first thought linked to danger, but now this reason’s much more amusing. Harry smirks as he tries to think of all the guys in his team that Zayn might want to get closer to tonight. He never expected the other boy to be gay, but well, whatever floats your boat.

“ _All_ of my team?” he emphasises, “Is there someone in particular or?”

Harry can sometimes be evil, he’s aware of that fact, but it’s not like he’s ever going to stop. He snorts at Zayn’s reaction to his question, the blush against his cheeks points to the obvious – even if he’s trying to deny it expertly.

“No!” he exclaims, “No, there isn’t.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “So I won’t invite our whole team then. Maybe I’ll just invite Liam and Niall to come instead.”

The reaction he spurs out of Zayn after this isn’t the one he expects. He thinks that Zayn might be moping next, his eyes drooping to the floor in a way to show that he’s not okay with this, not at all. But Zayn doesn’t seem fazed. His eyes – they actually light up, and that’s enough for Harry to catch on to what he’s missing.

However, Harry doesn’t get time to push Zayn into confessing which one of Harry’s friends is the guy he likes, because Zayn’s already escaping from him, shouting about ‘make sure everyone’s there, _just because_ ’ before he turns a corner and disappears.

The funny thing is before this point Harry really had regarded Zayn in the same category as Louis, but now he’s wondering whether he might make another friend from all of this.

There’s a faint sound of ‘We are the champions’ wafting in from Harry’s bathroom in his dorm, and as he realises what song it is and who is singing, it only gets louder. He sighs, rolls his eyes, and jumps up to his feet to bang on the door several times in an attempt to shut the Niall up. And the reason why the blond boy is even in his dorm is beyond him. He had already informed Niall and Liam, as well as the rest of his team, of Zayn’s party that night. But Niall had sauntered in not too long ago, complaining about his shower being too cold and Liam and Harry’s shower being just right.

Harry and Liam have been sitting in the quiet of the room for a while now, and Harry’s been dying to tell his two friends of the news he’s learnt recently. He was thinking of telling them both just before they entered the party (it’s more entertaining that way – Liam would be on edge all night, and Niall would probably get over excited and end up trying to shag Zayn even if the guy he likes _isn’t_ him) but the anticipation is killing him.

A few seconds after Harry had hammered his fist down on the door Niall steps out, a towel around his waist as he looks at the two boys on either side of the room, the essence of the last few words from Queen’s song failing to become coherent on his tongue.

“Why’re you both so quiet?” he questions and continues to delve for the clothes that he’d brought with him in preparation for stealing Harry and Liam’s hot water.

It’s at this point that Harry can’t keep what he knows a secret anymore. He wants to tell them before he combusts into flames – well, maybe not that dramatic.

“I have something to tell you both,” he announces, both of Liam and Niall’s eyebrows raise identically at the same time in a way that’s almost comical.

Niall forgets about the fact that he’s only wearing a towel as he sits on the only chair in the room next to Liam’s desk. Harry can see from the corner of the eye as Liam tenses, and is surely about to tell him off because Niall is still dripping wet. He shakes his head, refrains himself, and turns his head back to Harry.

Niall’s eyebrows are still raised as he says, “If it’s about your four nipples, Liam and I already know about it.”

This brings a snort from Liam across the room as he covers his mouth and avoids Harry’s sharp gaze. Harry is not only irritated but a little confused. He shakes his head and frowns. “How did you…how did you even know that?”

Niall grins cheekily and pats his nose in a way to communicate without saying: _it’s a secret_. Harry attempts to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but the effort is futile.

“That’s not really what I wanted to say,” Harry starts again from the beginning and tries to forget about the fact that Niall seems to be a little too knowledgeable for his liking. “I mean, you’ll never guess what I found out about from Zayn Malik.”

There’s a pause from all three of them as Harry watches the other boy’s reactions carefully. Niall seems disinterested, he’s wriggling where he’s sitting and is finally getting the urge to change into some actual clothes. Liam, however, leans forward and waits for Harry to continue.

“Apparently,” Harry begins; trying to articulate what he is about to say in his mind, “He has a crush on one of you.”

Their reactions are worth it by far. Liam’s eyes bug out of his head, the expression ridiculously caricature. He leans forward so much that he nearly topples right off the bed, but the word ‘what’ seems to be on a loop in his mind.

Niall, though, does something that Harry would very much like to forget. He’s not confused and wary like Liam is, but you can see the idea of Zayn forming in his mind. Everyone knows how fit Zayn is, even Harry will admit to that, and this fact never passed over Niall’s head either. He stands up abruptly, his towel that had been wrapped around his waist immediately dropping to the floor.

“Seriously?!” Niall hasn’t bothered to notice that he is on full display.

Harry looks away immediately, and he’s sure at this point he can’t get any more closer to these friends of his. “Yes, seriously. Just put some fucking clothes on, damn it!”

Liam seems to agree with him but he’s not looking away, it’s like he froze from too much shock in a space of a few seconds.

Niall doesn’t seem embarrassed by this incident at all; he shrugs, wiggling his hips a little and giggles when Harry and Liam both groan exasperatingly in response. He disappears back into their bathroom and Harry can almost feel the excitement radiating from the room.

Liam is still frowning, but his eyes are cast to the carpet floor. “It’s not possible he likes me, right? I only really talked to him once.”

And because Liam really needs to get some, like really, Harry decides he’s hoping that the guy Zayn likes is Liam, not Niall. Sorry Niall.

Harry is a good friend, the best friend, and he has to make sure that he lets Liam know there is a possibility that Zayn likes him without getting his hopes up.

“You never know. I guess we’ll find out who he likes tonight,” he reassures Liam, who is beginning to look even more worried by the moment.

Niall steps out of the bathroom, thankfully fully clothed at that point. Liam looks up at him and then back at Harry before saying, “Maybe I should just not go…” He jumps to his feet and attempts to make a run for it, but he should know by now that that never works. Harry grabs his left arm while Niall grabs his right and sits him back down onto his bed.

“You know, maybe he wants to fuck both of us, that’s a possibility,” Niall offers, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. This mostly makes things ten times worse. Liam blushes at the prospect. For the rest of the time spent before the party he is unable to look him straight in the eye.

When Zayn had given Harry his address for the party that following night, he hadn’t realised how long it would take to find the place. According to what he knows, Zayn doesn’t live on campus; he still lives with his family in their house because they can’t afford the price of the dormitories in their high school. Even so, Zayn never seems to leave the school on most days, and he can be found on most occasions sitting in the library with his headphones on and music playing at a level so that everyone can hear the tinny sound coming from them.

Harry doesn’t question things like this, but he really hopes at this stage that Zayn and Liam will somehow click perfectly and Zayn won’t have to spend his evenings alone, no matter whether he wants to or not. In this case, Harry knows he’s a good friend, and there’s no point in saying otherwise.

Somehow, he’s really re-thinking ever deciding to go, as the drive to Zayn’s house brings him down roads that he didn’t even know existed and his friends who are loitering at the back of his car, already seem to be fuelled with the excitement of the evening. Harry has the music up on a high level, it’s his choice because he’s the driver and what the driver says goes. Liam questions him before entering whether it is even safe for him to take a step inside, considering that Harry is not yet 17 and isn’t supposed to be driving a car and Harry, isn’t that _illegal_? Harry chooses at this point to zone him out and put on some classic rock that will drown out the other boy. Thankfully, it works.

Now, as he focuses on the road and lets the hum of the music take over his senses, he realises how unhelpfully lost they are. For the next few minutes, he prays to God that no one notices but he’s not the only one with eyes. He has Niall, Liam and Nick in the car; they’ve been talking for the most of the journey and have suddenly turned quiet. It’s not until Nick leans forward and places his hands on the head of Harry’s seat that makes him know instinctively that the jig is now up.

“Harry,” Nick drawls out his name, “Are we by any chance lost?”

Harry doesn’t even need to turn his head around to know that all their eyes are fixated on him. He bites his lip, eyes glancing to Nick whose face has suddenly become weirdly serious. “No…” he says, lying very badly through his teeth.

“We are lost, aren’t we? How did you even manage to get us lost, the directions looked quite easy –“

“Well if you know so much, why didn’t you drive?” Harry snaps at Liam, stopping the car at the side of the road and folding his arm.

“You know he should have drove considering you’re still a baby, Haz,” Niall comments from where he’s staring out of the window and making little doodles from the condensation. Harry notices the words ‘ _fuck me_ ’ scrawled largely by Niall’s fingers.

Harry’s about to defend his dignity with the fact that just because everyone he knows is at least 18 doesn’t mean that he is a baby. Sixteen isn’t a baby. Besides, he’s a smart cookie, that’s possibly why he bumped up a grade during play group.

Although, that’s not exactly what he says, instead he spots a skinny jean clad, tight top wearing Louis Tomlinson walking out of a house with a bottle in his grasp. He squints, leaning against the side of the window, making sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him and making him hallucinate his greatest nightmare.

“Is that Louis Tomlinson?” he questions aloud as all heads turn to where he’s looking at.

They all mumble in response, and Nick concludes in the open that it is, of course, Louis Tomlinson. “It is, most definitely. No one else has an ass like that.” He receives many incredulous expressions, except from Niall, who subtly agrees with him. “What?” he questions, “It’s true.”

The last statement goes unnoticed as everyone else is beginning to put two together and realise their stupidity. Or Harry’s stupidity, as he was the one driving.

Because if that was Louis standing outside a house, then that house most definitely is Zayn’s, they were on the same team after all.

Harry lets a heavy sigh escape his mouth; he hadn’t exactly remembered that a party at Zayn Malik’s would mean that his best friend, Louis Tomlinson, would also be there. And now he really does feel like going home.

  


	2. This is it, boys, this is war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Harry compete in a drinking game. Niall hides in Zayn's fridge. And Liam may or may not be freaking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I LOVE YOU ALL SO FREAKING MUCH.  
> Thanks so much for the comments/kudos/bookmarks/hits from last chapter. You don't know how happy it makes me.  
> Well, enjoy :)

“ _Of course_ ,” Louis Tomlinson rolls the two words over his tongue, his eyes looking over the new entries to the party. “Of course you fucking lot would be here.”

His hand is gripping the beer bottle tightly, in a way that almost makes it seem that that is his support in life. He’s not drunk, yet, but he’s heading to the definition of ‘tipsy’ very fast. He feels like drinking more when he sees Harry and his band of friends making their way across the road and if this was his party, he’d have kicked them out onto the street. Well, maybe not that, that’s a little too harsh. It would just be Harry, really.

The boy in question has his arms crossed and against his chest, and he doesn’t look too happy to be there either. His hair seems to be even more out of control than it usually is and his old faded out band t-shirt is low cut and exposes a tattoo of two birds. He doesn’t even really bother to acknowledge Louis, his eyes don’t meet his challengingly and instead he stalks into the house, possibly on his way to get wasted beyond recognition.

Zayn’s beside him in the next instant when Louis’ knocking back more of his beer. He’s glad he is here to save him from this situation, but his attention isn’t exactly on Louis at all.

“Hello,” he welcomes the three other people at the door, all of them appearing to be out of place on Zayn’s door step. Louis raises his eyebrows when he notices the reaction from two of them. Nick – the guy with a quiff that is _obviously_ copying his own – doesn’t seem too interested and now that he’s got permission to head into the house, he follows Harry’s direction in a heartbeat. The two others though, Niall and Liam, he thinks that’s their names, act in very amusing, but very different ways to Zayn’s sudden appearance.

Niall is almost drooling; Louis can see the lust swimming in his eyes as clear as day. Even so, he’s unable to make a move whatsoever, or even say anything, as he seems to have gone into a state of shock. Louis knows that Zayn is fit, because who doesn’t, but this reaction is something that he’d never imagine. And the fact that it is coming from Niall is slightly surprising, Louis always assumed the boy was only straight, but according to this, apparently he isn’t.

Liam, on the other hand, is not drooling like his blond haired friend. Instead, he’s standing there awkwardly, eyes flickering between Zayn and then down to the floor. Unlike his friend, he’s able to move his mouth to make a coherent sound, but it’s shaky and almost inaudible. His whisper of ‘hello’ doesn’t get past Zayn, and that’s probably what surprises Louis the most.

Louis knows immediately which one Zayn is most interested in, which in some aspects, makes Louis feel a bit of second hand disappointment for Niall. But he shrugs this off, deciding to ignore this odd situation that is occurring outside of the house, as he makes his way inside, finishing his bottle and picking up a cup of some clear liquid that must be Vodka. But he doesn’t care, only wants to get wasted to the point when nothing matters anymore and maybe, just maybe, he’ll get lucky tonight.

The taste is bitter on his tongue, but he drinks on and follows the beat of the music to where everyone is either crowding around talking and laughing, or dancing like idiots. He can see Harry and that guy Nick dancing together, bodies close as Nick grinds on Harry, breathing into his neck. Louis doesn’t need to see that, doesn’t need to witness anything that may want to make him sick. But it’s not like he’s being homophobic, fuck, he’s actually –

And then he remembers that Harry is supposedly straight, and it would be his duty, yes _his duty_ to save him from Nick’s advances. He shouldn’t really bother, considering they’re not friends and not even remotely acquaintances. But he lets this fact slide. He marches over to Harry and Nick, looking purposeful but in reality, his mind is blank on what he wants to say. Harry pulls apart from Nick when he catches Louis’s eye and Nick pouts when he thinks that no one can see him.

“Harry Styles,” Louis begins, and he’s racking his brain for something to say, anything, even if it’s something that may possibly piss Harry off and want to hit him square in the jaw. Although, what he does say is a much better and less face-threatening thing. “I challenge you to a drinking game!”

Harry had looked taken aback when Louis said his name, but now his expression is utterly priceless. Maybe it’s the fact that Louis’s being civilised rather than being his usual cocky self. But he’s outside of school, and this is a party, and he wants to be the winner of something in a competition with his greatest enemy. So, a drinking game it is.

The curly haired boy seems to take a shine to the subject, he smirks at Louis, stepping away from Nick as he makes his way over to where all the cups and alcohol is. He leans on the counter, his eyes beckoning Louis to challenge him. “Sure,” he states, “It’ll be great to see your reaction when you lose.”

Louis snorts at this. “Lose? Oh no, I’m a pro at things like this. And like on the pitch, I’m going to beat your stupid ass.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, a memory crossing his mind as the smirk grows wider. “Huh,” is only what he says, and nothing else. Louis’s made it personal to both of them now; it always is when he mentions their love of football. To be honest, it’s always been a bit personal between them, the hate that runs through both of their veins isn’t something spurred on by competition. It’s real and overpowering, but getting a chance to undermine Harry makes Louis’s world feel a little more purposeful, in a strange way.

Louis moves over to where Harry is and sets down the basic rules. They have one minute exactly to drink as much as possible. Harry nods in agreement and gets Nick to score how much each of them are able to drink, and the game is already to set into motion.

A crowd begins to form around them as someone with a watch that Louis’s never seen before decides to be the one to time them. Louis’s grinning like crazy in anticipation as he wraps his hand around one of the cups and looks at Harry dead in the eye. “Prepare to lose, Styles,” he says, watching how Harry’s emerald orbs lock his own, confident and assured.

Someone shouts go, but neither of them are too sure who it is. The next second Louis’s lunging for the first thing in reach, which happens to be the Vodka. Harry goes for something less strong, and he’s already guzzling one cup down before pouring more. Louis doesn’t drink anything else but the Vodka, and he knows somewhere in the part of his brain that’s still working that this isn’t a good idea.

He’s already starting to feel wobbly by his fifth cup, and the fact that he’d already drunken quite a bit adds to the fact that he’s slowing down, and Harry’s certainly in the lead. He hates to lose, especially if it’s against Harry, but that’s what seems to be happening. His ears are beginning to ring and the sound of another voice saying ‘time’s up’ is deafening. He sets down the cup that was placed to his lips. He’s lost.

He shakes his head, glaring at Harry as if it’s his fault (which it is, really) and exclaims, “That was a practice run!” His words are slurring together and as he steps forward, he nearly loses his footing. He stumbles, stands back up straight, and waits expectantly for Harry to agree.

But he doesn’t, and Louis should know by now that what he wants Harry will mostly be against. “No, I think we’re done. And I don’t think you should drink anymore.”

He’s acting so damn smug like he’s won a Nobel Fucking Prize over Louis. He doesn’t want it to be over, he wants a second chance to redeem himself and prove that he’s far better than Harry will ever be. But the other boy is walking away from him and going back to Nick before Louis can say anything. He growls underneath his breath, staggering after the younger boy as he grabs onto his shoulder, turning him back around to face him.

“This isn’t over, Styles!” He’s getting this sudden feeling like he wants to punch him, just to wreck that pretty face and stop him from smirking. Harry isn’t the one to retort, even though his mouth has opened to form words.

Instead, it’s Nick Grimshaw who retaliates. “Stop being such a sore loser,” he says arrogantly.

Louis really hates Nick. He doesn’t know him that well and he really hasn’t got much to base his hatred on, but this is the conclusion he comes to in his drunken state. He doesn’t hate him as much as Harry right now, but it’s very close.

Harry seems to agree with Nick, and this possibly only makes him angrier. Instead of heated words that are threatening to leave his mouth, he feels bile reaching up his throat and the dreaded feeling that he’s going to be sick. He’s sure that by tomorrow he’ll probably want to hide from the world as a way to forget about the embarrassment of being sick in front of Harry fucking Styles.

_Jesus._ Harry thinks as he steps back immediately, watching Louis puke up in front of him. In some ways, he does feel bad for the other lad, but in that part of him that still doesn’t like him, he really didn’t. Nick’s cringing at the sight, backing away and crunching up his nose in disgust.

He decides to ditch at that moment and go over to Niall who’s currently trying to fit himself in Zayn’s fridge, leaving Harry to stare at Louis in shock. Louis’s coughing, but thankfully he’s stopped with the puking. He straightens himself, his face pale as a sheet as realisation settles into his eyes. Harry still doesn’t know exactly what to do; he knows that he needs to help Louis somehow even if the boy in question doesn’t want him to.

“Hey,” he starts, his hand reaching out for Louis in a comforting way, “Are you okay?”

“Does it look like I’m okay?” Louis retorts, scowling at him as he whacks Harry’s hand away.

And with that, it’s clear in Harry’s head that the two of them will never get on.

Louis doesn’t bother to stick around. He wobbles away from him and doesn’t look back. Harry shakes his head, and looks to where Nick has wandered off to save Niall from his own stupidity. He snorts and makes his way over to where Niall is hunched in Zayn’s fridge; a packet of peas having split and fallen into Niall’s hair.

“I like it in here though, Grimmy. It’s nice in here, things in here aren’t pretty and they don’t reject me. I’m liked in here, Grimmy,” he’s rambling on and Harry knows instinctively what this conversation is about.

He hasn’t seen Liam all night since they had separated in front of Zayn’s door, but it seems that it wasn’t Niall that Zayn likes after all.

“What’s going on?” Harry questions Nick, just to make sure.

Niall’s now cuddling with what looks like a bag of frozen chips, Harry knows if they don’t sort something out soon, Niall will have completely lose all that’s left of his sanity. Nick shrugs in response to Harry’s question. “I don’t know, he keeps on talking nonsense,” he informs, “He won’t get out of there.”

Harry’s glad that Nick decided not to drink tonight in some ways, if Harry had followed his instinct to follow Louis earlier, then no one would be there to help Niall out. Nick steps closer towards the fridge, arms reaching out for Niall to try and help him get out of his current predicament. Harry watches with a mixture of concern and amusement, he’s certain that when he sees Niall next when he is sober, he won’t stop teasing him about this incident.

Nick’s ushering for Niall to step out like he’s a young infant and Nick’s the aggravated but caring parent. It’s sort of endearing to watch and it’s a side of Nick that he’s never seen before.

“Come on. Whatever happened it doesn’t matter,” he tries to reassure Niall, and then adds swiftly, “Anyway, you’re wrong that no one likes you. I like you, Niall.”

Harry’s about to say the exact same thing because for Niall to think that this one rejection from Zayn makes him unlikeable then he’s dreadfully wrong. But, it’s Niall who reacts before him, his blue eyes growing wider to the point where they look like they’re about to burst. He bites his lip, smiles and drops the frozen food in his hand, and then leaps at Nick with full force knocking them both to floor. Nick’s squashed by the weight, but it seems that all of this has managed to successfully tire Niall out. He cuddles into Nick in the same way he treated the chips from before, snoring gently away. Harry can’t help but laugh. Nick glares at him in response.

“Help me!” he urges, eyes pleading with him.

It’s a hard decision between whether to leave them to their own devices or to actually help Nick out, considering that the scene’s particularly funny and if he had a camera right now he’d be taking a picture and framing it on his wall. He contemplates this thought in his head, ignoring the fact that Nick’s free hand that isn’t glued underneath Niall is grabbing at his trouser legs. _Please, you little fucker_ , he’s now resorting to conveying his need for assistance through facial expressions and Harry’s two seconds away from falling into hysteria.

“I think he’s quite comfortable, no?” he says, a grin taking over his features, but he decides to be nice and haul Niall up by his arms.

The boy in question is still snoring away, happy in his sleep. Nick bounces up immediately once he’s free and gives a sigh of relief. He seizes Niall’s right arm, while Harry takes his left, and they carry him over to the sofa and place them next to Josh Devine, another member of their own team. As Niall’s dropped onto the couch, he instinctively cosies up with whatever is closest and that happens to be Josh.

“Hey!” he exclaims, “What am I supposed to do with him?”

Niall’s head is snuggling into Josh’s neck, whose face seems to be an interesting colour of red.

“Just look after him, I’ll be back to get him in a bit,” Harry instructs and turns to Nick, “I’m going to find Liam to help me take Niall home.”

He turns on his heel ready to do just that, but Nick doesn’t saunter off and do something else instead. He follows the curly haired boy in the same direction he’s heading in, and reaches out for him, alone now in the hallway. But, instead of the usual confrontation that Harry expects (which is possibly a conversation on the matter of the fact that if he leaves now, Nick doesn’t have a ride home), he’s taken aback when Nick’s hand finds its place on his own neck and pulls him closer in what can only be a kiss.

At this point, Harry’s mind is going into overdrive. Firstly, because he knows that Nick isn’t drunk and he hasn’t taken a sip of anything since Harry last came to this conclusion. And secondly, Harry isn’t drunk either, not really, but he doesn’t stop the kiss from being initiated. To be honest, he’s at fault too. Nick hesitates just before their lips touch, and Harry can feel the other boy’s breath on his cheek. It’s temptation that makes him cross the gap, for his lips to press gently to Nick’s for only an instant, a simple and innocent kiss, before he pulls back, smiles sheepishly, and walks away.

Maybe it wasn’t right to just leave Nick staring after him, maybe he should have stayed. But that sort of kiss wasn’t a real kiss to Harry, it was a friendly one (and yes, he believes you can kiss a friend and let it only be seen as ‘friendly’) and if he’s confused Nick by making him think that there’s anything more to that then he’s an awful person. Harry already feels like turning back around and taking it all back, but then that would be rude too.

So, he leaves it be, and walks on to try and find his best mate who must be lurking in the house somewhere. He tries as many doors as possible, but there are only two floors so it doesn’t take him long. However, he wishes that he had decided to get help elsewhere rather than looking for Liam, as what happens next is also part of his list of: Things I Wish I Could Erase from My Memory by Gouging out My Eyes. Dramatic? Maybe, but that’s natural when you walk in a room to see your best friend not-so dry humping a tanned skin _very naked_ Zayn Malik.

It seems he’d been right after all. It was Liam that Zayn had a crush on.

“So you’re saying that Zayn and I…” Liam mutters off, his fingers intertwining and untwining in a ridiculous place.

He’s been crouching on the edge of his bed for what seems like hours now, a headache making him scrunch up his forehead into little lines. Harry feels sorry for him, but he also feels sorry for himself for having to witness _that._ They’re both sitting on Liam’s bed and Harry’s been trying to drill into his head the obvious and even now it is difficult for him to say it out loud.

“You shagged that boy like there’s no tomorrow,” Harry puts bluntly, a little too bluntly for Liam’s liking, it seems.

His face blushes scarlet, reaching down to his neck. “Please don’t say it like that,” he places his hands over his face as Harry chuckles and attempts to pull them away, but the boy’s got quite a vice grip and won’t move.

Harry frowns, a little confused by Liam’s behaviour, it doesn’t exactly add up. “But that’s what happened. Besides, I’m sure he’ll like you even more now,” he waggles his eyebrows suggestively, hoping to receive a warm and hopeful smile from Liam, but the boy still refuses to look at him.

If Niall wasn’t knocked out in his room right now from last night’s escapades, then he’d totally get him to whack some sense into Liam. Then again, that might not be a very good idea, considering that Niall wanted Zayn to like him to, but Harry lets this thought slip from his mind.

Liam sits up straight, biting his lip. “But I can’t even remember anything that happened, Harry!”

That slightly takes him by surprise. “Nothing?”

“Yeah, I mean the last thing I remember was having a few drinks with him and then nothing.”

“That makes things awkward.”

“Please don’t state the obvious to me, I’ve been trying to deny that and you’re not helping.” Liam turns silent and he’s back to absent-mindedly biting his lip as if that could suddenly spur him into thinking of a solution to his problems. No imaginary light bulb lights up on top of his head, in fact, he seems to become more and more miserable as the seconds go by. But of course Harry can’t let his friend send himself into a pit of depression. The boy groans, deciding to curl into his covers as he faces away from Harry, a hand resting on his aching head.

“My head hurts,” Liam mutters, “Damn Zayn for the alcohol.”

Harry comes to the conclusion that Liam possibly has fallen for Zayn quite badly in a short space of time.

He would be lying if he said that his behaviour around Nick hadn’t changed at all, but then he supposes that this is only because of his fear of the obvious. Harry doesn’t like confrontation, nor does he like having to deal with such things called feelings, or at least, other people’s feelings. He doesn’t like Nick that way, and what probably makes his life seem all the more worse is that he knows how Nick’s been looking at him since the party. He possibly looked at him that way even before, but he doesn’t bother to hide it now.

It’s after their first practice of the next day when they’re all crowding in the changing rooms that Harry begins to realise that he might be in a little too deep. A lot of his friends seem to be in that ‘hangover’ slump. Liam’s still moping about what happened with Zayn, yet he won’t bother to do anything about it. Except, he’s got this permanent frown pasted on his face and Harry’s in half the mind to go and fetch Zayn from wherever he is and sort things out for Liam himself. All of this is draining Liam’s energy in playing the game, but hopefully he’ll be back to his normal self soon enough.

He’s pulled his football shirt over his head when he hears footsteps coming from behind him. It’s not like he’s alone in their changing rooms, Liam was attempting to untie his football boots only a few steps away. But it wasn’t him who was approaching. He turns around just before Nick can pinch his sides, a sense of dread flooding through him with the knowledge that this is it, he couldn’t avoid Nick anymore.

Nick doesn’t seem completely drained of energy like the majority of the other guy’s in his team. In fact, his complexion is quite bright, and he happens to be in a good mood. He’s grinning at Harry, a lop-sided grin that Harry can’t quite return.

“Hey,” he says, and Harry feels like running away and hiding somewhere so that he doesn’t have to deal with any of his stupid mistakes.

It’s bad of him but he doesn’t say hello back, instead he nods at Nick, continuing to get changed and hoping that their conversation will not desert from the norm. No one else says a word between the two of them for the next few seconds, it’s just Harry changing quietly while Nick sort of watches over him. It’s a little weird, and Harry suddenly feels self-conscious when he doesn’t have to be. He’s really out of his depth. Definitely.

However, Nick’s shuffling awkwardly beside him, and he’s surprisingly the first one to break the silence. “About last night,” Nick begins his voice urgent for answers.

Harry can’t look up at him; he doesn’t want to because he doesn’t want to deal with any of this. But he interrupts Nick immediately, “What about last night?”

It’s a stupid question, but he’s trying to avoid this conversation as much as possible, even if it is for another few seconds. He glances over at Liam’s direction, he hasn’t moved an inch and Harry hopes he can sense the way that he’s praying for him to _please, pretty please piss off_. It’s obvious that Nick is not taking in the fact that Liam, even though the guy has his own problems, is only a few feet away and can probably hear everything they’re saying.

Although, Nick’s not really caring about Liam, he’s caring about Harry and when Harry finally looks up he wishes that he wasn’t in this situation at all.

“I’m talking about when we kissed,” Nick says bluntly, “I mean, jeez Harry, there’s nothing else that really happened last night apart from that.”

That’s not true. Niall spent most of the time in the fridge. Louis puked right in front of him. Last night was a momentous occasion.

Liam’s definitely listening in now. The bastard. Harry can hear the guy stop breathing. He’s sure that he’s going to be bombarding Harry with questions when Nick finally leaves. Harry cringes at the thought, and sighs, knowing he can’t escape this any longer.

“Can we not talk about this now?” he asks Nick, looking frantically at Liam so that Nick gets the gist.

Nick doesn’t say anything, his eyes burn into Harry’s for a second, questioning him. It makes Harry feel even more uncomfortable than he already is. The day’s only getting worse, it seems.

“Do you even like me?” Nick inquires, and Harry fears that Nick has somehow probed through his mind via gazing into his own startled green eyes and picked out the truth.

“Can we not talk about this now!?” Harry repeats, this time more urgently.

It’s only gone past 11 o’clock in the morning, and Harry already feels like the day should be over.

The many times he’s asked himself ‘what have I done’ and he’s still coming up short. It’s a surprise on the morning after the party that as soon as he wakes up, eyes itching with sleep, he gets kicked out of Zayn’s house immediately. The boy didn’t seem in the best of moods, and nor was Louis really, he’d just been woken up from a pleasant dream that he wouldn’t have mind spending a few more minutes in. But Zayn wanted him out; just for a bit, he says, and Louis still doesn’t really know what to make of it.

The best thing he can do is let the matter slide and go somewhere for a bit, or maybe back to his own dormitory where he should be. Except, he doesn’t want to go there and he finds himself wandering the streets of the town of Doncaster, hair scruffy and stubble on his chin. He knows that if he sees anyone he recognises then he’s in deep shit, this appearance is god damn awful and he doesn’t feel like being teased for it, because if anyone does say a word, he’ll bite their god damn tongue off.

He glares at whoever is staring as he digs his hands into his trouser pockets. It’s cold out, and the chill of the air sends goose-bumps to his skin. What makes this all ten times worse is the fact that he’s got the hangover of all hangovers. The memory of being sick last night is still probing at his mind. He cringes at the thought, wants it to go away as soon as it came. He really hates Harry Styles, he really does.

Louis turns a corner, heading in a direction to nowhere until something catches his eye and he freezes in his tracks, pulling himself back onto the wall in a style that could almost be deemed as one of a ninja (hah). He doesn’t know quite why he’s hiding, but he doesn’t feel like continuing on walking.

All he knows is that the phrase _speak of the devil_ has never been more correct.

“Oh bollocks,” he swears underneath his breath, shaking his head.

Harry Styles is standing only a fair few feet away around the corner and Nick Grimshaw is with him. And, frankly, that shouldn’t make a difference to Louis. Except, they are the enemy, so his behaviour is called for. He convinces himself this and peers around the corner again. It’s this sight that takes him aback, even though in some way he doesn’t feel too shocked to witness it. It only confirms what he knows is possibly true.

Nick grabs onto the back of Harry’s head (the guy doesn’t look too happy at all, in fact, he looks kind of pissed) and literally _forces_ his lips on him. Harry doesn’t push him away, which is what Louis expected from his body language at first, but now the younger boy is relaxed and kissing Nick back.

It’s at this point that Louis’s fumbling for his phone in his trouser pocket, his hands dialling his best friend’s number. He doesn’t know why he’s bothering to do so, but his brain is finally beginning to work after the sight of Harry kissing another boy. He bites his lip, eyes still training on the two only a few feet away.

 _“Louis, please tell me this is important,_ ” Zayn asks him after Louis’s finally gotten through.

“I’ve just seen Harry,” he states.

_“That’s nice, can I hang up now?”_

“No, you can’t. What I mean is I just saw Harry kissing Nick Grimshaw,” he clarifies, trying his hardest to keep his voice down in fear that he’ll be heard by Harry or Nick, or worse, both.

It seems that the two of them have finally pulled apart now, but Harry looks a little flustered. His hair’s tousled and his green eyes seem to have exploded. Louis’s so tempted to take a picture of his face, just to taunt him. Zayn hasn’t said much in the last few seconds and Louis’s worried that he’s decided to hang up on him…or maybe even fall asleep.

Although, it’s Zayn who speaks again next, _“So?”_

It’s obvious that Zayn doesn’t have the same devious mind that Louis does, he’s tried so hard to teach Zayn the basics, but this is a failure on all levels. The answer to that question is easy, he’s surprised that Zayn who knows Louis ‘like the back of his hand’ can’t even see this one coming.

“So, amigo, we can use this information for our own benefits.” He can’t stop the smirk from taking over his face.

_“No, Louis, really?”_

“Hell yes,” he chuckles, pulling out his phone and taking one quick picture of Harry. Finally things are starting to look up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title credit: Some Nights by Fun. 
> 
> I hope you like this chapter, bear with me on the NICK/HARRY. Remember, this is a HARRY/LOUIS story! 
> 
> The next chapter should be out in a few days time :D


	3. You can go to hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis tries to blackmail Harry, he fails. Nick and Harry sort things out (kind of, but not really). Louis and Harry get in serious trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I am so so so sorry that I haven't updated. It's been like more than a month I think. I lost this whole story, all of it. And now I'm rewriting again, so that's why it's taken so long. I hope people still comment/read/kudos. it will be well appreciated.

There’s a light tapping on his shoulder and Harry’s back tenses in response. His week has been unpredictable, and it hasn’t exactly gone how he wanted. He prays to anyone who will listen that he won’t have to turn around and see Nick behind him. He is officially avoiding him, simple as. Ever since that second kiss that he’s still trying to deny happened at all, Harry’s been feeling a little on edge. He doesn’t want to hurt his friend, in fact that’s the last thing he wants to do, but he doesn’t like Nick _like that_ , of this he is a hundred percent sure. He sighs, eyes closing shut and he finally turns slowly towards the person behind him and thankfully it’s not Nick, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe.

Of the many people that Harry doesn’t want to see first thing in the morning, Louis Tomlinson would be one of them. The boy is leaning towards him, his arm pressed up against the lockers, a smirk spreading across his lips. Harry knows that look well, recognises it from his own memories of when he had a mischievous plan in his mind. He isn’t in the mood to deal with Louis’s tomfoolery.

“What?” he questions harshly, hoping that the other boy will leave him alone. Although, Louis isn’t deterred by Harry’s attempts to push him away. He only seems to become more confident, his eyes sparkling with mirth. His hand fumbles with something in his pockets, and thinks better of it, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

Harry’s not _usually_ an impatient person. He can tolerate just about anything as long as he gets what he wants. Although, this situation is a tad different to what he considers the usual. He’s never had a conversation with Louis that has lasted long enough for Harry to feel this way, most of the time they’re at each other’s throats immediately. Now, Louis’s still, he’s not spouting off at him about how bad he is at his favourite game, or how he’s inferior to him because of his age or his team. Instead, he seems to be all the more formidable by his stance, to feet apart in a challenging way – he’s planning something, Harry knows he is. It’s at this stage that the younger boy wants to avoid the situation but before he can try and rudely shoo him away, Louis finally speaks his mind.

Truthfully, it’s not what Harry would have ever expected to hear from his enemy.

“So,” the said boy begins, exploring his mind for the right way to phrase what he is about to say, “How’s it going with Nick?”

It’s odd really, Harry imagines this conversation between a friend, someone who’s ready to help him figure out the dilemma and laugh with him about it in the end. Louis’s none of these things, and just hearing him mention Harry’s main problem of the day makes the nervous dread boil ever higher at the pit of his stomach.

Harry finds himself spluttering as a response, something quite unlike him, but he finally is able to articulate his words, “Fine. Why are you even asking me this?”

Everything about this is horribly wrong. It brings a chill to the back of his neck – Harry’s not used to talking to Louis, he feels almost tongue-tied. He wants to ask what the hell the other boy is up to, but Louis beats him to it. He finally decides to delve his hand into his trouser pocket and waves what looks like a photograph in front of Harry’s face. At first Harry stares at it blankly, his eyes meeting each other in the middle as he tries to focus on the picture. He wants to ask why the other boy is showing him this, but he is curious, and as he sees the picture for all its glory, his breath catches haphazardly in his throat.

Harry’s not quite sure why he’s so surprised that Louis would do such a thing, he’s always been capable of this kind of behaviour. What he is most surprised about, and a little bit terrified, is that Louis has taken a picture of him and Nick doing unfriendly like things and Harry _just knows_ that his luck is running out. He tries to snatch it back from Louis, but the older boy is too quick, bringing his arm back just as Harry’s fingers skim the paper. He’s outright glaring at Louis now, but the boy in question doesn’t seem to be affected. He’s smiling happily, as if the world has suddenly turned into a vast space of rainbows and flowers and unicorns and he was the one right in the middle of it.

Harry’s depiction of all of this was a lot bleaker.

“Ah ah ah,” Louis waves the photograph tauntingly, “I don’t think so. I’m not just going to give it back to you. That would be boring, not to mention pointless.”

Of course it bloody would be. If Harry thought for one second that Louis would do something for him then he’s sorely mistaken. And stupid. There’s no point going on to Louis about how that picture means nothing, because to some degree, it does. If anyone finds out about this, he’s screwed and not because he’s apparently bisexual. It would be like chaining him up to Nick as ‘the new gay couple’ when Harry has no interest of being a part of this. He sighs, biting his lip as he gives up on the idea of trying to grab the picture and run.

“What do you want?” he questions.

Louis’s face lights up like he’s opened his birthday present. “That’s the spirit! Well, there’s a list actually.”

Harry deadpans, “A list.”

“Yup. Firstly, I want you to hand Liam Payne over to our team.”

With this, Harry knows that he possibly will not agree to Louis’s apparent list. Of all the things he could want, he’s blackmailing him and he wants Liam. Except, Harry understands why. Liam is a good player, one of the best on his team. To take him away would make Louis’s team stronger and his weaker. There’s no chance in hell he’s giving any of his players away.

He didn’t respond with an answer, so Louis continues, assuming that Harry is agreeing to his terms.

“And secondly, I want your team to forfeit for the next game.”

Harry feels the last of his patience subside, of course it’s all down to the competition between the two boys, and it always has been. Louis saw this as an opportunity to finally beat him, and that was out of the question. He has many ideas running through his head about how to shoot Louis’s request down; some are more violent than others. Surprisingly, he keeps his reserve and doesn’t do anything too outrageous.

Instead, he laughs in his face.

Louis’s eyebrows furrow, surprised by Harry’s reaction. It takes a few minutes for Harry to calm down, but Louis’s going through certain stages as well. His face morphs from confusion into bewilderment and finally into anger. He’s no longer leaning on the lockers so casually; instead his posture is tense and rigid, his eyes staring down Harry as if he were a poor ant underneath his boot.

Harry lets one last chuckle escape his mouth before his own eyes harden. “Do you seriously think I’d go along with that? God, Tomlinson. You really are stupid.”

It might have been a horrible idea to go against Louis when the boy in question had something he could use against him. But Harry would never go along with whatever he said, no matter how deeply he might regret it. Although, he realised soon after that calling him stupid would only add fuel to the already burning fire.

Louis’s face resembles the hatred in his eyes. The worse thing is that this is not just from his own uncontrollable anger, but it is from his embarrassment too. He takes a step forward, his hand coming into contact with Harry’s chest as he grabs onto the material of the younger boy’s shirt, twisting it.

A snarl emerges from his throat, a guttural sound that echoes in Harry’s ears. “I will destroy you, Harry Styles,” and with that he simply lets go, leaving his words to contaminate the air.

It’s not like Harry’s dwelling on what Louis had said to him by the lockers – because he’s not, not really – but there’s something about the way he phrased it that leaves him feeling anxious all day. He’s waiting for the odd looks and the pointing fingers, the chattering and the whispers as he walks by. None of this has happened yet, but he’s dreading when it does. That picture is still sitting comfortably in Louis’s pocket and he knows full well that it can be used against him. However, nothing has happened yet, and it has been a few hours since their confrontation. He’s beginning to think Louis’s threat was only empty, but he knows Louis better than that. If he’s not using the picture to create his demise, then he obviously has other methods in mind. And Harry really can’t help but dwell on that thought.

He’s biting his lip furiously and not concentrating on what is happening on the field, which is so unlike him, as he’s dedicated to his job as captain. It’s not good and what makes it worse is that he can feel Nick’s gaze glued to him. What pulls him out of his own mind is something slamming ridiculously hard into his back that he nearly buckles over from the impact. He swears, folding in on himself, the voices around him turning into background noise.

“Jesus, Harry. You’re really not with it today, are you?”

He’s not sure whose voice it is, but he doesn’t have the will power to look up. Instead, he only mumbles, as he’s finding it really hard to use any sort of motor skills he might have had. This is enough for the people surrounding him to concur by themselves what to do with the situation. Before he can fully understand what is happening, he’s being whisked away by sturdy hands that are forcing him along the pitch.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he tries to peel the person off of him but by this point he’s sitting on the bench away from where his heart is.

“It’s weird how I can only talk to you properly when you’re out of it,” the person remarks and their silhouette seems to become less blurry as the seconds go by.

Harry feels like running away, far away, but he can’t even will his legs to move. Nick glances at him from the corner of his eye, worrying his lip. Harry doesn’t know quite what to say, or how to begin. How do you reject a friend who’s been so good to you? But he didn’t want Nick, he never saw him as something more since the first moment he met him.

“Look, Nick,” he starts, looking down at his mucky football boots as he digs in the recesses of his mind for the right way to phrase this without sounding like an arsehole. “You have to understand that I –“

It’s Nick that beats him to what he truly wants to say. “I know. Of course I do. I’m just not good enough for you,” he pauses, avoiding Harry’s gaze, “I _know_ that, so please spare me from having to hear it from _you_.”

Harry should feel relieved; this awkward situation has finally been settled with. However, that’s not the emotion that is churning at the bottom of his stomach. Really, he feels like an awful person, but then there’s nothing he can do to make things seem better. There is only silence that follows between the two of them.

“HARRY! LIAM!”

Harry doesn’t even need to check whose voice that is. It’s a hundred percent Niall. He groans, rolling his eyes as he chucks his pillow over his face in an attempt to drown out the Irish boy, but he can still hear his loud hollering. Liam stirs in the bed opposite him, grumbling to himself about how much he wants to kill the blond boy. Of course, Harry agrees with him wholeheartedly. The next thing he knows, Niall suddenly jumps on top of him, legs straddling him as he thrusts a sheet of paper right in his face. Harry’s eyes go cross eyed immediately from trying to work out the words on the paper from up close.

“What?” he questions, and rolls over, as Niall is flung off the bed onto the floor with a little yelp.

“We’ve been challenged,” Niall states as he begins to read the words to them out loud.

“Today at 11am, I challenge Harry Styles’s team to a match, the team that wins get to have the captain of the losing team be their personal slave.”

“That sounds so childish,” Liam comments leaning over Niall to get a better look at the note.

Harry rolls his eyes covering his blanket over his face. “He said he was going to destroy me and he comes up with this. He really is stupid.”

He’s contemplating going back to sleep but again Niall pulls him back into reality. The other boy yanks down the sheet that had been Harry’s hiding place for the last few seconds and lightly pinches his cheek. Harry just stares up at him, confused and a little irritated.

“Don’t say that Harry, he might hear you!”

“So what he’s got super-hearing and stupidity now?” Harry jokes, sitting up and leaving the dream of sleep within his covers.

Liam hasn’t said a word the whole time; his eyes are still glued to the sheet as he finally speaks up, firm and a little too enthusiastic. “I think we should do it.”

It’s at this point that Harry feels like his friends must have a few screws loose. As soon as he heard of Louis’s challenge, he was planning to avoid it, maybe even hide out somewhere so he wouldn’t have to do anything. But there was nothing he could do when his best friend Liam Payne’s eyes looked so bright like that. He was close to asking why he was so determined for this follow through but then he remembered: Zayn Malik.

He smirks, a chortle escaping his lips. “Oh, I see. Is this an excuse to see your boyfriend Zayn?”

Liam’s breath hitches and suddenly his arms are waving frantically like he’s about to have a panic attack. “No, of course it isn’t. I haven’t seen Zayn since his party.”

Harry elbows Liam in the ribs, “Well that’s about to change now isn’t it.”

For a second, Liam’s staring back at him, trying to decipher Harry’s words. He’s too slow on the uptake, but of course, Niall isn’t. It’s Niall’s reaction that does it, the blond haired boy jumps up to his feet, screaming some obscenity about the annihilation of the other opposing team, before he runs out without another word.

It’s silent in their dorm room before Liam and Harry exchange glances, identical grins spreading across their faces.

“We’re going to kick their arse!” Harry exclaims and the two of them fall into hysterical laughter.

The rain is falling down in buckets yet that doesn’t put any of the boys off their game. In fact, they are more motivated than ever, each of their eyes are alike with their steely determination and the want to win. Harry’s football shirt is sticking to him, almost like a part of his skin. He grinds his boots into the dirt watching carefully as Louis walks up to him, football in hand as he places it between the two of them.

There’s a maniacal grin stretching across his face as he holds his hand out for Harry to shake. It’s shocking because this is the only time that Louis Tomlinson has ever been a true sportsman towards him. Harry grabs onto his hand as Louis all but digs his fingernails into the younger boys palm, his grin turning into something far more serious.

“You're going to lose, Styles. Like you always do, and I'll be the one with the trophy," Louis sneers at him. His eyes challenge Harry to rebuke, to say something that will propel them into an infinite game of 'who can make the best comeback'.

Harry raises an eyebrow at him, chuckles underneath his breath at the mere idea, before his gaze turns stern. "Yeah, in your dreams." The game is on and the coin is tossed. It whirls in the air, hypnotising the whole field. Everything is silent and as tails is announced Harry feels like luck is already on his side. He wanted tails and he got it. And now he’s going to take Louis down.

The game starts off pretty fairly. At first it seems that there isn’t a clear winner. Of course, each of the boys would beg to differ. Harry in particular wears a concentrated expression on his face, lines appearing on his brow. He swerves to the left, signalling to one of his teammates to intercept the ball. This goes down successfully and the other football player is sprinting as fast as possible down the end of the pitch where Louis’s goalie Zayn Malik is waiting at the end.

Harry has heard rumours how brilliant Zayn is. It’s rare for him to ever miss a ball. But he’s never played against Harry’s team. And he can tell that the outcome will be tough, because the ball is so close to the net before Zayn all but leaps forward, knocking the ball away.

Harry bites his lip, his eyes taking in the enemy team before the game starts up again, and Niall is running with the ball. He’s fast and swift, dodging those that come at him with ease, he sees Harry out in the open when he finds himself too crowded by the enemy and he quickly passes to him, and again, Harry easily intercepts. It goes pretty well from this point, and Harry’s sure this time he’ll be able to score a goal to put them in the lead. That is, until Louis comes out of nowhere and propels into him, sending him flying to the ground.

He’s got the football now, and before he takes off in the opposite direction, he smirks cheekily at Harry. If Harry wasn’t fuelled with fire before, he is now. He manages to stand up from his seated position, and looks around at the referee who should have called a foul by now. Except, he doesn’t seem to barely notice.

“That was a foul!” he shouts, but no one seems to hear him.

He decides instead of dwelling on this fact, that he should channel all his energy and anger into the game, and that’s what he does. His determination to win is ten times more powerful than before, and as he watches Louis score a goal, he can’t help the fury boiling inside of him. He knows deep down that this is no way to act, but he doesn’t care anymore.

When his team has got the ball, he waits patiently for his chance. It’s Nick that passes it to him at some point, but he doesn’t notice. He finds himself running like a madman to the other side of the field where Zayn’s already waiting to intercept. He doesn’t seem to notice his other teammates who are all open, all ready to help him. But he does notice Louis this time.

The boy is right beside him, trying to steal the football off of him. Harry’s eyes meet the blue of Louis’s and then all common sense goes out the window. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, he doesn’t think it over. But now it’s Louis that he knocks down to the floor, as he kicks the ball straight at him, like he’s the bloody net instead of the actual prize that is only a bit ahead of him.

Louis crumples over, and it only takes a few seconds for Harry to reason the part the ball had connected with. He snorts at this, a kind of satisfaction fuelling inside of him.

“You fucker!” Louis swears, and before Harry can realize it, the boy is grabbing at him, dragging him down so the two of them are brawling with each other, fists colliding with skin. Everything else gets drowned out, but as soon as the two begin to fight, the game stops immediately.

It’s Liam that tears Harry off Louis, but he’s still trying to grab for him, still trying to reach out and hurt him because that’s what he wants. He wants so desperately to hurt him and nothing else matters. Zayn pulls Louis away from him, but he has the same emotions channelling through him.

“Let go of me, Zayn!” he demands, trying effortlessly to pull away from the other boy, “I want to teach him a lesson!”

“I think you’ve done enough,” Zayn says but Louis doesn’t listen to him. As soon as Zayn’s grip on Louis relaxes, he charges, and the two of them are in an all out brawl once again.

“Go get the Coach,” someone shouts, but Harry doesn’t register it.

Louis has his fingers grabbing at Harry’s curly hair, and he’s pulling so hard that it feels like he might try and tear it out. Harry knocks Louis away, fist colliding with his cheek as the boy’s fingers unlock from their vice grip. They could go on fighting like that forever. But this time, when they are dragged up and away from each other again, the fighting really does stop.

“Boys!” Coach Simon bellows, snapping them back to reality. “The two of you, inside _now_ ,” he gestures to the general direction of the school, and both boys follow in silence.

“You’ve really disappointed me, boys. You know that?” Coach Simon sighs as he shakes his head at the two misfits. They are currently sitting in the locker room, both boys pressing ice packs to certain parts that hurt. They both look a mess, big purple bruises already beginning to show on their skin. Harry sits at the furthest part of the bench, while Louis sits on the other, neither in the best of shape.

They don’t answer their Coach, and this only makes the older man more exasperated. He turns towards Harry, who before that point had been staring off into space. He snaps his eyes up to Coach Simon, not really knowing what to say.

“Harry, I let you start another team because I thought the competition would be good for you,” he pauses, letting the words sit in the air before continuing, “But obviously you’re not ready to Captain any team right now.”

Louis snickers at the other end of the bench at this before the Coach snaps at him, “And Louis, you’re too focused on Harry that you can’t even play anymore. You’re a skilled player yes, but this demonstration has proven that you have little to no sportsmanship.” And now it’s Harry who snorts back, a pride setting inside of him.

This is cut off short when Coach Simon addresses the both of them together. “So I’ve decided that neither of you are cut out to be a Captain of any team.”

Harry’s eyes widen with shock at this statement and both he and Louis are now complaining about this, pleading with the coach to think differently. Although, it doesn’t change his mind.

“So I’ve decided that before you captain a team again the two of you need to get along first.”

“Like that’s going to happen,” Louis says underneath his breath, glaring at Harry.

“Well it better because if it doesn’t then neither of you will be playing again. So, Harry, you will be moving to the other team. And Louis, you will be giving your captain position to someone else, it doesn’t matter who, anyone you see fit. And the same goes for you, Harry,” Coach Simon instructs, a fierce look appearing on his face that sends the two boys into silence.

And with a final stern look, he turns and walks away, leaving Harry and Louis dejected at his words.

It’s a while before the two of them say anything, or even attempt to move. Harry had been looking down at his muddy football boots, while Louis had been clenching and unclenching his hands. Either way, the two of them had similar thoughts in their minds.

“You know,” Louis finally speaks up, eyes bearing down at Harry from the other side of the bench. “I really hate you. And I seriously don’t think I’ll ever be able to _get along_ with you.”

Harry scoffs, his nose crinkling at the mere thought, almost like he’s disgusted by it. “Same goes for me too,” he retorts back, and then they both stand up, and go their separate ways.

But Harry’s miserable, and it takes all his effort not to let out his anger and frustration by punching a wall. He had his dream in the palm of his hands and it slipped through his fingers like sand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe. So how long will Louis and Harry hate each other? Only time will tell.  
> And hopefully I'll update this again soon! :) Hope you liked it.


	4. All we do is fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam can't deal with his new title as captain. Harry and Louis make a bet once again, this time someone loses. Harry sees something shocking.

 

“So who gets to be the slave?” Niall asks Harry eagerly as he tries to peer around the taller boy as if to see Louis trudging behind solemnly. Except, he sees nothing, and as he looks up at Harry’s face, the smile on his lips falters instantly.

Everyone else in their locker room has noticed the strange shift to silence. Liam turns around from where he was talking to one of their teammates and meets his eyes. He doesn’t say a thing, but Harry feels like he knows. Harry’s never felt this upset about anything before, and he’s doing his best to keep himself together, to not break down in front of his friends. He still can’t fathom it all out in his head; he doesn’t want to believe that he’s being forced into the other team because of Louis.

But no, that isn’t true. Harry knows it is really his fault that all of this has happened. There’s no trying to deny it.

Liam steps towards him, a frown forming on his forehead. “What’s the matter?”

He doesn’t want to say it out loud, because if he does it will only feel more like he’s letting all of his team-mates down. They trusted him; they were convinced to join this team because of him. To desert them should be out of the question. But he can’t continue to stand there, it’s not like anyone can read his mind and find out the truth without him actually having to say it.

“I’ve been kicked off the team,” he announces, his voice quiet and hushed as he watches the room erupt in shock. Niall’s blue eyes are as wide as spoons, and Liam’s face has gone a pale shade.

Liam shakes his head disbelievingly. “They can’t do that!”

Everyone in the room simultaneously agrees, but Harry interrupts them. “They can. And I’m being moved to the other team so that Louis and I can get on. I don’t think that’s going to happen, but if something doesn’t change then I can’t be Captain of this team anymore. The only good thing is that Louis’s being moved down from his post as Captain too.” Harry smirks at this tiny detail, but it’s not enough to make himself feel better. He doesn’t know what to do.

Their Coach assumes that if they were to be on the same team then possibly Louis and Harry might get along. Yet, that was a delusional hope. Harry had known Louis for a while and there hadn’t been a point where he felt like he could get along with the older boy. There was no way things were going to be different. Although, he wanted to be Captain for his team, he wanted to see his team win as many games as possible; he wanted to be the best captain of the best team. Now, that dream was so far away.

As Harry breathes out an exasperated sigh, falling down onto one of the benches, someone steps in front of him. Nick is in the middle of Niall and Liam, and this time he isn’t looking at him with any sign of contempt or discomfort. Harry doesn’t know quite what to say; he can’t remember having a conversation with Nick since the night of the party that wasn’t centred on what happened. But thankfully, Nick doesn’t act any differently than a good friend should. He has a small smirk appearing on the edge of his lips, and his eyes are gleaming – like a light bulb has just gone off in his eyes.

“You know, why don’t you just pretend to like him?” Nick suggests and Niall, having heard this idea, nods at it vigorously.

Harry, however, is nonplussed. “Pretend?”

That’s asking him to pretend that Louis has a nice bone in his body, to pretend he can actually get along with him. How would he even be able to tolerate the idea, let alone the actual person? Impossible as it seemed, Harry knows that there’s no other option. It’s either that, or give up on his dream. And he’s not letting that go so easily.

Nick sits beside him, a maniacal grin seeming to be stuck on his face. “Well, yes. It’s unlikely you’ll be able to properly get on with him, so try and get on his good side,  _make nice_ with him, and when everything’s over go back to hating him. It’s pretty much simple.”

Harry thinks this over, rolls the idea around in his head. When he gets back to his team after all of this, he won’t have to interact with him again. If it will get him back to his team sooner, then why not? He can’t see any faults in that.

It’s only Liam who seems to be worried about this whole situation. “But what if you end up actually getting along with him or vice versa? That’s not going to end well, Harry.”

Harry’s about to laugh at this preposterous idea, because it is really out of the question. But funnily enough, Nick beats him to it. “Everyone knows that’s impossible, you can’t just go from hating someone to being friends with someone in such a short space of time.”

“Well you can –“Liam tries to rebuke, but Harry interrupts him.

“It’s fine. I’ll ‘pretend’ to get along with him for the sake of this team. Alright?” Harry concludes, watching the rest of his team closely. Everyone nods, or at least makes muffled sounds of agreement. They all start to pack up, leaving Harry, Niall, Liam and Nick in the room.

As Harry starts to follow the general direction of the exit, Liam speaks up again, and he’s worried he’s going to say something to try and convince him against this idea. But he seems to have let it be for once.

“So who’s going to be Captain then?” he asks.

Harry puts a hand on Liam’s shoulder, a small smile spreading across his lips. “That would be you, Liam Payne.”

As he’s about to leave he can hear Liam complaining very loudly, but he knows Liam will do well. He trusts him more than anyone else on the team. If he gave the spot to anyone else, he’d fear he would never get it back.

 

It’s the first time in his life that Harry has ever dreaded playing football. Usually, he would be psyched for it, adrenalin would be pumping in his veins, and a huge smile would be spread across his lips. On this occasion, however, Harry feels like he couldn’t care less. He is less energised to play, and the smile that should be there is instead a nasty frown. He can’t help it, because really, he doesn’t want to be here.

One good thing that has come out of this is that Louis is just as unhappy. Louis’ team is huddled in the centre of the pitch, but Louis seems to be zoning out completely. Harry can tell he is upset by the sudden change, even if he did give his friend Zayn his post. And that’s another thing; Zayn seems to be revelling in his new job as Team Captain. He’s even welcoming Harry into their team like he didn’t do anything to their former captain. Really he would have expected the similar treatment that he is currently getting from Louis, but everyone doesn’t seem to mind his presence. He knows though that they’d rather have Louis back in his position.

“I know this change may be difficult at first, but it’s only temporary,” Zayn announces to the team, as they all grumble in disapproval. He carries on, unbeknownst to this fact, turning towards Louis and Harry’s general direction. “And one of you will have to be goalkeeper in my stead.”

It’s this that causes the match to light once again for the two boys. Harry’s eyes divert to where Louis is, and they both meet, a silent glaring session from the both of them.

And then Harry remembers that he’s supposed to play nice with him, and having a fight about positions is petty.

Still, it really is hard to say anything remotely kind to him, so the words kind of come out with a hint of anger in them. “It’s fine, he can have goalkeeper. I’ll be anything else.”

This does cause a bit of a silence for a few seconds. Harry is glad he managed not to let himself go crazy by attacking (even if it was verbally) Louis again. However, Louis’s looking at him like he’s grown a new head.

“You’re just going to give it to me?” He asks, puzzled.

Harry rolls his eyes at the question but doesn’t say anything back to the older boy. Instead, he turns towards Zayn. “What can I be instead?”

Zayn seems to be just as confused as the rest of them. But he shakes it off, a hint of a smile at the edge of his lips. “You’ll be centre-back. If you don’t mind, of course.”

Harry shrugs, confirming that he’ll take the part. After that, he kind of zones out. He doesn’t hear what Zayn is instructing the rest of his team, instead he thinks about his own team, and whether Liam’s doing okay as captain. He hopes the boy can actually do it and that he isn’t panicking.

Because he’s stuck in his own head, he doesn’t realise that the team has dispersed onto the field. He’s about to follow suit and find his place when he is stopped by Louis in front of him.

“I don’t know what you’re planning but stop it,” he demands, a slight snarl to his tone.

Harry frowns at this, but decides to wind up Louis anyway. It would be fun to watch his expression if he does. “I’m not planning anything,” he smirks.

Louis takes a further step forward. “So I’m supposed to believe that you were okay with handing me the goal-keeper position?”

Actually Harry had wanted so much to fight with him over that part, but even now he’s able to take control of his emotions and not make the same mistakes as he has done previously. He shrugs at Louis’s question, brushing past him before saying, “I thought you would want it.”

And then he leaves to find his spot on the field.

  

“I’m sure he’s out to get me,” Louis thinks out loud as he stuffs a few salted pieces of popcorn into his mouth.

He’s currently sitting in front of Zayn’s television in his house with some of the other members of his team. Aiden Grimshaw (left midfield) and Zayn are sprawled along one small couch, legs occasionally hitting the other, while Louis and his teammate Ed Sheeran (centre forward) are on the other. They’re not exactly watching anything of interest, just some program that Zayn clicked on out of curiosity. But it’s not like the television is the most interesting thing at that moment.

Louis’s words evoke a few snorts from his teammates. But it’s Zayn who speaks out.

“He’s not a serial killer, Lou,” he chortles, “He’s just a boy.”

Louis ignores this comment. “But he has to be planning something. I would have expected him to be properly pissed off, you know. And he…he seems to be fine with this.”

And Louis knows that if Harry really does care about his team and his position as Captain then he should be feeling the same way as Louis does. He’s been kicking himself for what has happened, and in fact, this is really the only time where he has felt the slightest bit content since.

Louis can’t understand Harry’s behaviour and that is what worries him.

The blue-eyed boy sighs exasperatingly and reaches out once again for a large handful of popcorn. He wants to indulge in whatever he can to get his mind off of things; usually it would be more than just popcorn, but Zayn’s out of booze.

Ed kicks him slightly on the shoulder with his feet, and usually this would make Louis want to kick him back (albeit playfully) but he stops when he sees his expression.

He’s worried for him; they’re all worried for him.

“Are you alright, Louis?” he questions.

Louis knows what he really wants to say. He wants to dump all his problems on everyone else. He wants to say that he really  _isn’t okay_ and he’s never felt so depressed in his whole life. He wants to play captain; he wants it so bad that he can’t take all of this. But he can’t tell them. These words would seem selfish, and they wouldn’t understand. How could they, really? They haven’t lost their dream.

So he decides to lie instead.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replies, trying to smile widely to hide his true feelings.

No one tries to pry out anything more from him. And he’s thankful for that. It’s Zayn who breaks the silence by throwing a few pieces of popcorn at him, and then at Ed and Aiden. It’s the best thing to do, because it turns the sad moment into something fun. Louis’s now laughing hysterically throwing pieces at popcorn at the other boys. No one cares about the mess, or the fact that the pieces are wedging into their hair and their clothes.

Louis jumps up on the couch, leaping at Ed who had been politely throwing the pieces at him. It suddenly becomes an all out war, and Louis’s sure that this has to be one of the happiest moments of his life.

Then the door bell rings.

Everyone stops in their tracks. Louis turns his head towards the sound of the ringing bell, and looks back at his team-mates, confused.

“Was there someone else coming?” he asks, jumping off of the couch and walking in the direction of Zayn’s front door.

It’s Aiden who’s rushing after him. “Yes, but you’re not going to like it, Louis. Sit back down and I’ll get it.”

Louis doesn’t understand why Aiden’s treating him like a baby all of a sudden. He ignores the other boy’s protests as he unlocks the door, opening it for the fifth member of their get-together.

Louis tries his best not to slam the door right in Harry’s face.

His hand is gripping on the side of the door now, his nails digging in. It’s like he’s frozen where he stands, unmoving. Harry smiles at the two of them and addresses Aiden. “Thanks for inviting me, Aiden.” He takes a step in, past Louis, and into the living room where the other two boys are.

Aiden stands there for a while, an apologetic expression on his face. “Look, Louis…”

He’s interrupted before he can say anything more.

“You invited  _him_? Does Zayn know?” Louis whispers harshly.

Aiden looks behind him to see if anyone can hear him. He pushes Louis backwards a few steps in a way to make sure that their voices won’t be heard by anyone else but them.

“Yeah, he does. But Louis we had to invite him over. He’s our teammate now…”

“He is _not our teammate_ ,” Louis spits out and he can’t help the venom inside of his voice or the pitch that it takes. In fact, he doesn’t care if the younger boy hears these words from the other room.

He feels so angry and he just wants to take it out on someone.

Aiden shakes his head. “He is. And inviting him over might get us all closer as teammates. You might not be able to, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t.”

And it’s the first time that one of his friends has stood up for Harry and not for him. It’s not the best feeling in the world; in fact, the mere thought of this leaves him silent.

Aiden takes his silence as a sign that he agrees with him (although in reality it’s the opposite) and tries to steer the both of them back to the living room. Louis is in half a mind to leave straight away so he doesn’t have to face this. But he doesn’t seem to have a choice as Aiden’s got a vice grip on his arm. As he goes back into the room, he notices Harry talking cheerfully to Ed, sitting where Louis had been sitting only a moment ago. He scowls at this fact and is about to say something rude when Aiden pinches him in the arm, whispering to him under his breath to ‘ _play nice.’_

Doing that is impossible, Louis thinks.

He shakes Aiden’s hand off of him, stomping over to where Ed and Harry are to sit right in the middle of the two of them. They break apart from conversation immediately, Louis feels happy about this fact.

“Sorry if there’s hardly any room, but you can go over there if you want,” Louis instructs, hoping that Harry will do what he says. He doesn’t really care that the others are looking at him in disapproval. Harry had taken Louis’s spot anyway.

He expects Harry to say something and then begrudgingly go to the other couch. But he doesn’t. Instead, he leans back on the sofa, moving his legs so they rest on Louis’s knees.

“I think I’m okay here,” he smiles at him, and for a second Louis thinks it’s genuine, and then he sees his eyes.

_The conniving little bugger._

From that point Louis has decided he’s going to welcome Harry to the team his way. If he wants to be a part of it, then he’ll have to face Louis first.

 

_Harry doesn’t look right in our team uniform,_ Louis thinks as he peers over to the younger boy across the locker room. They’re all currently getting ready for practice, and now Harry doesn’t look so out of place as he had previously. Louis’s team uniform is a green colour (shirt, he means, all shorts were black), and Harry suits it perfectly. He doesn’t want to admit this fact, because even thinking of it brings bile to the back of his throat. But, he does. And that’s what makes him angrier than usual.

He watches as Harry sits down to tie his laces, and Louis imagines immediately what it would be like if he were to tie the laces together without the other boy noticing. Harry would be tripping about, falling over clumsily. It would be hilarious, but Louis doesn’t think he could have a chance to act this idea out.

Louis’s been thinking about it long and hard, how to make Harry’s life miserable. It might be a mean thing to do, but honestly, he doesn’t care. It’s really his fault that all of this happened in the first place, and if he wants to vent out his anger on the situation, why not on Harry? Still, there are no marvellous ideas appearing in his head. To be truthful, he’s got nothing.

And Harry, of course, seems as happy as ever. Maybe it’s all an act, because otherwise Louis wouldn’t be able to fathom his behaviour.

Louis has been staring so hard at the other boy that Harry finally looks up and notices. He pulls an odd face before standing up straight, his attire immaculate.

“What?” he says, hands on his hips ready for a challenge.

Louis grimaces at him, pulling his own shirt over his head before walking forward. He points a finger at him, jabbing it at his chest. “I’m not letting you win this, you got that?”

Harry’s expression becomes even more baffled. “Win what?”

Yes, that was it. That  _had_  to be it. Harry was playing a game with him seeing how long he could take until he finally went insane. Harry might be trying to twist his way into his team by making friends with the likes of Aiden, Ed, and Zayn, but he wasn’t going to let him win. It was his team, not Harry’s.

And to make sure that everything stayed the same, he’d have to use shocking tactics.

A small smirk appears on his lips as he jabs Harry one more time before walking away. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing.”

Harry follows after him onto the pitch, the sound of their football boots hitting the gravel builds on Louis’s determination. He storms onto the pitch, ready to show that he wasn’t going to lose everything. He couldn’t let that happen.

Practice today would just be shooting goals. Zayn has taken goal-keeper this time, but he is still regularly taking part in his position as captain by shouting at the members of the team who are doing anything wrong. Louis stands behind Aiden while Harry is behind him. An idea is finally beginning to form.

“Say, Styles,” he cocks his head towards the curly haired boy.

Harry turns his gaze towards Louis, his expression seeming to be one of disinterest. Louis carries on talking anyway.

“No one won that bet the other day, did they?” Louis inquires, but now he has finally caught Harry’s attention.

The odd behaviour from Harry that had puzzled him beforehand finally fades away. He isn’t acting like someone who wanted to get along with Louis anymore; his eyes portrayed something far different now. That look is what he expected from Harry Styles.

“No, they didn’t,” he smirks. “And I think I know where this is going.”

Louis’s expression mirrors Harry’s. “Well, whoever manages to score a perfect goal gets to have the other as slave. And don’t think that will be easy, Zayn’s an amazing goal-keeper.”

Harry bites his lip, as if in thought. If he agrees to this then Louis can really make his time on the team a living hell. He is praying for it, praying for him to agree to this challenge. And when he does, he has to stop himself from bouncing up and down in the air with excitement.

The other boy nods once, confirming it. A grin stretches across Louis’s face as he finds himself at the front of the line.

“Watch me score a magnificent goal, Harry.”

Louis tries to meet Zayn’s eyes to make sure that he kind of knows what he plans on doing. But he has confidence in himself too. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself.

And then Harry leans in, “Go on then, score.”

His movement in kicking the ball is completely off target, it is so embarrassing that it makes him close his eyes, not wanting to see the result. He hasn’t scored at all; his shot hasn’t even gone near the net.

He spins around on his heel, ready to grab at Harry again. “You bloody cheater!” he shouts.

The atmosphere feels no different from before. Louis is sure things were going to go the same way they did last time, and they would be hitting each other once again. But Harry doesn’t say anything to stir up the impending argument. Instead, he smiles innocently back at him.

“I didn’t do anything,” he lies through his teeth.

Actually, Louis is certain this time is worse.

He wants to throttle the boy but someone’s pulling at him. Aiden’s telling him to let it go, and for once, Louis listens. He walks away from Harry and watches with the other members who have already taken a shot.

If Harry actually manages to score he’s screwed. But it’s not like that can possibly happen. Harry will definitely take advantage of the situation. Louis’s plan has been flushed down the drain.

He watches carefully as Harry begins to make the shot. His movement is swift and sure, and he knows before it hits the back of the net that it’ll get in. Zayn nearly manages to catch it, but he misses by the tips of his fingers.

Louis stares wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the result.

“So, I guess I win our little bet then, yeah?” Harry grins at him as he makes his way over.

Louis is shaking with fury. But he can’t go back on what he said. An incoherent sentence of profanities is all he is able to manage.

He looks back up at Harry and this time he’s sure he is going to say something to put him in his place. But then he notices the darkness of Harry’s eyes. And he stays silent.

Harry’s voice is hushed now so only he can hear. “I was hoping I would win, because now I can make you pay for all of this.”

And that’s enough for Louis’s suspicions to be correct. Harry’s hatred towards him hasn’t changed one bit.

 

It hasn’t even been a full week yet and he’s already slipped up. Nick had convinced him to act like he could get along with Louis, but it’s beginning to look like an impossible idea. Harry would admit that he has enjoyed some parts of being on the other team. First of all, some of the other members are actually cool to get along with. Zayn’s the same as he was at the party a few weeks ago, and it’s still obvious that he’s thinking about Liam, what with the tiny hints he gives here and there about the other boy. What Harry doesn’t understand is why the two don’t do anything. They haven’t met up since. Harry doesn’t want to meddle in his friends’ relationship but it is beginning to seem ridiculous.

And of course then there’s Ed and Aiden. Aiden had been welcoming to him ever since the first day he joined the team. And when Harry had met Ed at Zayn’s house that second time, they had clicked easily. He feels like none of this is as bad as he thought, and if he plays his cards right he might be back on his own team with some more friends to boot.

But of course, there’s always Louis’s existence niggling at his consciousness.

Harry can’t help feeling contempt towards him, even if he does try to hide it. He still hates him, so much so that when Louis lost their bet and he won, he saw it as an opportunity for revenge. Any attempt to pretend he likes him is futile now, as it is possible that Louis has seen through Harry’s façade.

It would be a lie to say that he’s not enjoying bossing Louis around, because he really is. It’s the most fun he’s had in such a long while. Currently he’s making Louis tidy his and Liam’s room for him as he sits and watches on his bed.

Liam keeps on peering over at Louis every so often in worry, and Harry glares at him to make sure he doesn’t give in and actually help the sod.

“This is really disgusting,” Louis announces, wrinkling up his nose at the state of the room. “Did a bomb go off in here?”

Liam furrows his eyebrows at this. “We’re really sorry, Louis. Niall comes in here sometimes and makes a mess…”

“Why are you apologising for?” Harry interrupts him and then angles his body towards Louis, “And stop complaining and work, servant.”

 Louis raises an eyebrow at him. “You are enjoying this way too much.”

“So what if I am?” Harry remarks, lying back on his bed.

It’s quiet in the room for a while, except from the sounds of Louis’s complaints every once in a while. But Harry learns to drown these out. He shuts his eyes, beginning to drift off to sleep when he’s pulled out of it again.

“So who’s the captain of your team at the moment, Louis?” Liam asks him, and Harry knows from the sound of his voice that he’s not asking out of curiosity.

Louis answers pretty quickly, “It’s Zayn.”

Liam has been struggling with his new post as captain, from what he’s been saying. It’s not that he can’t take it, he can, but he says that the team just doesn’t respect him as much as they do with Harry. This is kind of sad, considering that Harry had faith in his team to carry on after he had left. Although, it’s not like he’s going away forever. He should be back pretty soon.

Liam was also anxious to find out who was captain on the other team. He hated confrontation. Now that he has heard who it is, his reaction is just as Harry had expected. Liam’s brown eyes grow wide with distress, as he worries his lip.

“Zayn?” he questions aloud, “Does he know I’m team captain yet? Does he hate me now? Is that why he’s not talking to me recently? Are we going to hate each other like you two do…?”

Harry jumps up immediately from where he had been trying to get some shut eye before. He places a hand on Liam’s shoulder comfortingly. “He’s not going to hate you, Li. Besides, you two have a different relationship. It’s not like Louis and I are….” He shudders, “ _Lovers_.”

Louis pretends to be sick at the other side of the room. “Please don’t say that ever again.”

Liam smiles at this exchange. “Thanks. I think I’m going to go find him now, actually. There’s no point wallowing in pity over this if I don’t try and talk to him myself.”

It’s the first time that Harry has ever seen Liam look so sure of anything. He doesn’t deliberate over his choice too much; he’s out of the door within a blink of an eye.

Harry turns towards Louis. “Don’t just stand there. Carry on.”

He expects Louis to do as he’s told, but that really is a stupid thing to think. The older boy puts his hands on his hips in a defiant stance.

“What if I don’t want to?”

Harry is not in the mood for this, really. He’s never in the mood for Louis’s antics. He can tell that Louis’s had enough of being his cleaning person, but he’s not about to give in.

“I mean, technically I don’t have to do this. I could just walk out of here and you wouldn’t be able to stop me,” Louis continues.

This is correct, Harry can’t deny that. Louis can do what he wants, and he always has been doing exactly that.

Harry doesn’t know quite what to do, he can’t keep him here. But he knows what to say. “If you walk out that just adds to the reasons why you have no sportsmanship. You can’t take it when you lose.”

Maybe this was a step too far, but either way it hits Louis’ nerve.

“ _I_ have no sportsmanship? You were the one who tackled me that time! You were the reason this has happened  _in_   _the first place!_ ” Louis’s voice has reached a few octaves higher; he’s finally lost control over his emotions.

Harry tries his hardest not to scream back at him, but he feels like he really needs to. He can’t let Louis say everything he wants and put the blame all on him.

But he doesn’t get a chance to say what he thinks to Louis’s face, as he is already rushing out of Harry’s room, slamming the door behind him, as the loud sound echoes in Harry’s ears.

Harry kicks the back of the door violently, as if it were Louis, a thing that can hurt and feel pain, rather than a piece of wood. “Screw you!” he says, but he doesn’t shout it, it’s underneath his breath, almost a whimper. He bangs his fists on the door several times over, hoping that Louis is still there to hear him.

 

The darkness around him doesn’t make him feel any better. All day he’s been in a sour mood after his impromptu fight with Louis. He hasn’t seen the boy since then, and he wishes that he would never have to see his face again. It’s late at night now, approaching 11 o’clock, but he can’t sleep. He’s more awake than anything, his mind on overdrive as he thinks about what Louis had said to him.

It wasn’t his fault, that’s what he wants to think. But deep down he knows he had a part in it. Louis couldn’t act like he didn’t do anything either, and that is what irritates Harry. Louis is as much at fault as he is.

Harry is walking aimlessly, but his feet are taking him to where his heart lies. The pitch at night doesn’t look eerie like you may think. But it is very quiet. However, some of the lights are still on, hitting the grass so that Harry can see the silhouette of a person playing on the field.

He’s sure he has the worse luck in history.

Louis’s playing on the field by himself. He’s kicking the ball several times into the net, and then retrieving it, as he dribbles the ball on the field. Harry is about to turn around and take him and his thoughts somewhere else. But he finds himself walking forward instead. Louis aims for the goal again, but misses. His shoulders seem to tense up as he sombrely recovers it. He holds it in his hands before a silent scream leaves his lips and he throws it as far as he can manage. He stares after it, shaking his head before slowly making his way back to the benches. That’s when he spots Harry.

He’s still as a deer caught in the headlights. He doesn’t say a word, only watches Harry closely. It’s Harry who breaks the silence.

“Hi,” he breathes out, and it feels weird coming from him. Because when has he ever greeted Louis like this? He’s never said hello to him, and in fact, this is probably the first time he has ever done so. Louis doesn’t say anything back at him, but he continues moving to where he was heading, as he sits down on one of the benches, holding his head in his hands.

“What do you want? Are you here to ridicule me?” he questions.

Harry had just seen a sight that shocked him, if he hadn’t come across this, he might have said something rude to him. Instead, he shakes his head, placing himself opposite Louis.

“No,” he says simply, it seems that he can’t even get anything out but one word answers.

Louis lifts his head back up, his face looks slightly red, and his eyes seem larger and bluer than normal.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it. He wants to say something, but he can’t phrase it properly. For some odd reason, he doesn’t want to hurt Louis. And that is usually not the case. But he can’t take the expression Louis is giving him. He can take the hatred in his eyes, but not the overpowering look of sadness that swarms them now.

He finally wills himself to speak after a short silence has passed between them. “I think,” he starts, “I think we should try to get along.”

Louis laughs at him. “We both know how impossible that is.”

And he’s right, Harry knows this fact. It  _might_ be possible in the far future, but they had to be back on their teams soon. Harry instead decides to let him in on the plan Nick had constructed for him.

“Yeah, but for now, we can pretend to like each other,” he proposes. “Just so we can get our places as Captains back.”

Now that this thought is out in the open, he’s glad he doesn’t have to carry it alone. Louis seems to approve of this idea because he’s grinning at him, and Harry’s so glad. He’s so much better happy and hating him than sad and hating him.

“Okay,” Louis nods, “We could try that. But I’ll warn you, I’m not going to start liking you all of a sudden.” He pulls a face at this and laughs.

Harry sits down next to Louis, gazing up at the stars in the sky. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment and tell me what you think, it would be appreciated! The next chapter should be up approx this time next week. xx


	5. If this feeling flows both ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry realizes he doesn't mind Louis, not really. Louis plays the hero one moment, and then finds himself alone in the next. Zayn and Liam get together (finally) after Louis and Harry play joint cupid. A lot of drunkenness ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the wonderful comments from last chapter as well as the kudos/hits/bookmarks! As a result of that, I've updated earlier than usual! Yay!  
> I'm on a roll with this story at the moment, so I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am.  
> Have a brilliant and wonderful day ;)

  
 

The bonfire flickers every so often, the flames crackling and hitting wood. Louis watches it with melancholy, transfixed by the glare of the orange flames.

Aiden had proposed that their team and the other team have a get together, and now they are all sitting in the dark around a small bonfire that they had made outside Zayn’s house. Luckily Zayn is okay with this, but he never really seems to mind the football team hiring his house for parties.  He only gets grumpy afterwards, when he is left to clean up the mess of littered bottles of alcohol and the nasty state of his house. That’s possibly why they’re outside this time.

Louis’s been drinking a little too, but the burn of alcohol at the back of his throat doesn’t make him feel any warmer. His fingers feel like they are sure to fall off any minute. He hasn’t dressed properly for the occasion; he has no wool-y jumper or thick coat to keep him warm. So instead, he is freezing, goose-bumps appearing on his skin. The fire is warming him up slightly, but not enough to make the shivering go away. He keeps on rubbing his hands, hoping the friction will induce some much needed heat.

He is currently sitting between Zayn and Aiden, while opposite him is Harry, playing with his can of beer. He catches Louis’s eye, setting the beer down, and smiles at him. And of course that is another thing. Even though he has agreed to ‘pretend’ to get along with Harry, he feels like it might be a little too weird for him to handle. So far neither of them has said a spiteful word to each other, but Louis has been trying his hardest not to speak in order not to do exactly that. It isn’t like he can erase his feelings. Things aren’t that simple. His hatred runs thick through his veins, and there is Harry,  _smiling at him._ And he has to remind himself that he isn’t friends with him at all and that smile is not genuine. It’s fake. All of this is undeniably fake.

But Louis ignores this and decides to forget about anything but eating the roasted marshmallows he’s been given and enjoying the alcohol in front of him. He’s not drunk yet, not even remotely tipsy. He chooses this very moment to join in with his fellow ‘acquaintances’ downing back the first drink he can get his hands on. He feels the rush go to his head, but nothing takes its toll at that point. He knows he’ll soon be giddy, and he’ll forget all of his worries just like that.

“I think we should play a game!” Niall Horan exclaims from the other side of the circle where he is placed next to Josh Devine and Harry. He’s grinning like a maniac, his face already slightly red and his eyes glazed.

No one objects to this idea, in fact there are several shouts of agreement that follow. Louis leans forward in excitement, he’s always liked these games, and he’s always liked getting wasted beyond belief.

“So what are we going to play then?” Someone asks – Liam Payne, who’s been looking at Zayn every five seconds. He thought the two of them might finally be together by now, but of course, no dice.

“Ever heard of Flip, Sip or Strip?” Niall asks.

“If it involves stripping then I politely decline,” Louis interrupts, “It’s freaking cold out here.”

And it is, even if he uses alcohol to warm himself up. If anyone makes him strip even one piece of clothing he’ll have to run inside for warmth. But no one else seems to be deterred by the idea; they’re too out of it to realize the repercussions of the game. But it’s not just the fact that it is cold that Louis doesn’t like about it, he’d rather not be naked in anyway whatsoever in front of a bunch of guys he doesn’t know too well.

Of course, that thought might change as the night goes on.

Aiden punches him gently on the arm, swaying back and forth. “Don’t be such a wimp! It sounds fun!” He turns towards Niall, “What do we have to do?”

Niall briefly goes over the rules of the game. First off, it involves flipping a coin. Apparently each player takes turns flipping this said coin while calling heads or tails in the air. If they guess correctly, they pass the coin to their right. If they guess wrong, they have to pass the coin to their left and either remove one item of clothing or take a shot. Although, you can’t go for the same option twice in a row, so stripping is inevitable if you have bad luck. And that’s what Louis has, a lot of bad luck. He’s sure this game will definitely not work in his favour.

No one calls out to argue against not playing the game, so someone digs out a coin from their pocket, and they’re ready to play. It starts off with Niall, considering that he was the one who offered to play it in the first place. He throws it up in the air, calling tails. Everyone leans in to see the result.

“Oh that’s so boring,” Niall sighs, “I actually got it right.” He passes the coin to his left – to Harry, as the younger boy flips it. This time, however, he’s not as lucky as Niall.

He shrugs, taking off his beanie that was on his head as the curls droop out from underneath it. Louis grimaces at the fact that the boy’s hair isn’t a messy state.

“Why didn’t you go for the shot?” Nick asks from somewhere in the circle – Louis’s not sure where and he doesn’t really care, to be honest.

“I don’t want to get wasted tonight and I don’t really care if I end up naked, so…” Harry responds but Louis decides to speak up even though his mind’s telling him to shut the hell up and stay quiet.

“I don’t think the rest of us want to see a naked Harry,” he looks at Nick, whose eyebrows are raised at this thought. “ _Minus a few,"_ He whispers underneath his breath.

Harry smirks at this, running a hand through his ridiculously curly hair. “I didn’t know my nakedness would be a bother to you.”

Louis’s nose scrunches up at this. “It wouldn’t.”

“Right.”

There’s an awkward silence after this, and Louis’s finding himself torn between glaring at him and acting like this doesn’t bother him. Not hating him is hard, especially when Harry is being so bloody annoying.

It’s Niall who breaks the silence however, snapping Louis out of his internal war against saying something spiteful towards Harry just for the heck of it. “You do know he’s not naked yet? He’s only taken his  _beanie off.”_

The others chuckle at this and for some reason it makes Louis madder. He rolls his eyes, making a hand gesture as if to say ‘let’s just carry on’. No one else goes back to the conversation after that.

The game goes past pretty quickly. Louis’s had around 5 shots (or maybe more he’s kind of lost count) and has lost a few pieces of clothing. As he was unlucky enough to have not brought many clothes with him, he’s left with no shirt and only his jeans and boxers left. Everyone else is around the same state, drunk on vodka and half naked. Except for Harry, who’s sober with only his boxers left.  The younger boy is getting ogled by Nick, but he’s either ignoring it or oblivious to it. Louis’s worried for the boy’s safety, considering that Nick looks close to ravishing him. And that reminds him, he’s still not sure whether Nick and Harry are a ‘thing’. He saw them kissing once, and it’s obvious that Nick likes him. But Harry doesn’t seem to reciprocate his feelings.

Sooner or later, the boys all begin to become tired of the game. Niall has actually drank so much that he’s half awake and half asleep on Josh, just one tiny movement and his face might be in the other boy’s crotch (wouldn’t that be funny.) Louis feels lightheaded and out of it. Everything seems to blur around him, nothing seems to be coherent. He can’t handle his drinks too well, and this is the result. But he likes the feeling; he likes the carelessness that comes along with it. He wants to feel like this forever.

He’s currently far away from the other boys wandering aimlessly around Zayn’s garden when he spots something. Harry disappeared for a while after the group had dispersed, they had all given up on playing the game. Louis hadn’t cared at first, hadn’t really noticed. But he suddenly comes alive after his eyes take in what’s in front of him.

Nick’s pushing Harry up against the fence of Zayn’s garden. He’s grabbing for Harry’s face, trying to bring him to look at him. He’s forcing a kiss on Harry and the younger boy is obviously squirming, trying to get away.

Louis’s a sensible enough person to know (even when drunk) that something is wrong.

He rushes forward, legs wobbling beneath him, as he slams his weight into Nick. He thinks automatically afterwards how bad an idea it was to do that because now he’s more off balance than he was previously. When he finally gets his bearings, Nick is on the ground, glaring up at him.

“Why did you do that?” he demands, and his voice sounds as drunk as Louis feels.

Louis turns towards Harry, his hair is rumpled, and his eyes are wide with shock. Louis doesn’t know what he’s doing, he wouldn’t normally do this, he’s certain of it, but he puts an arm around Harry’s shoulders, bringing him closer to his chest.

“He obviously doesn’t want to kiss you,” he answers, and that’s all he can really say, considering that he doesn’t know the situation. Nick doesn’t try to fight with him about this; instead his shoulders droop in response.

If Nick had a crush on Harry, he’s given up now.

Louis watches as Nick stands to his feet and walks away, leaving Harry and Louis by themselves at the furthest point of the garden. As soon as Nick is out of sight, Harry pushes himself away from Louis. He bites his lip, staring at the ground thoughtfully.

“Thanks,” he finally says after a short while. He doesn’t say this to Louis’s face, but he’s glad that Harry said it at all.

Louis shrugs. “Don’t mention it.”

Harry doesn’t walk off and avoid contact with him for the rest of the night like Louis expects he will. He stays instead, finally making eye contact with him. “So I guess that was all in the act of pretending to get along with me?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Louis muses, “But I’m too drunk right now to figure that one out.”

Harry smiles, and even though it’s not properly directed at him, it’s completely genuine.

  

Louis doesn’t want to go home just yet; he shares this view with many of the boys at Zayn’s house. Except for Nick, of course, who seemed to disappear after Louis had smacked into him. Louis faintly recognises that this choice may lead to problems later but just as he hadn’t thought of it at the time, he doesn’t think of it now. His head is slightly hazy, and no one seems to notice the fact that he keeps on reaching out every five seconds to fill his glass up with whatever substance is on hand. Louis is drunk. He is  _so drunk._ But it’s kind of a fun feeling. He doesn’t have to care about anything. Everything is so easy when you don’t have to care.

He’s currently sitting with Zayn by his patio, watching him staring after Liam, who seems to be consoling Harry about something. It’s probably about what had happened earlier, but Louis bats this thought a way as soon as it comes. But Zayn’s being very silly, really. Louis’s been itching the whole time to say what he thinks, that the boy should just go ahead and talk to Liam, instead of pining over him for a far. It’s miraculous that they haven’t said a word to each other yet, even though they’re in the same space at the same time. That’s why Louis thinks this is stupid. If he had a crush on anyone he wouldn’t be sitting around moping about it.

Zayn’s so love-struck, it makes him feel sick. He sighs every five seconds, looking like he wants to join Liam and Harry over there but he doesn’t want to impose on their chat. Louis finally has enough of this quiet and frankly quite odd behaviour. He grabs onto Zayn’s arm, pulling him up quite harshly.

Zayn looks dreadfully confused. “What are you doing, you’re hurting my arm!” He isn’t really that drunk, only tipsy.

Louis shakes his head, ignoring Zayn’s comment. “You’re gonna go talk to ‘im. You’re being so boring sitting here like that.”

“Am not! And I’m fine, Lou, let go of me!” Zayn insists, trying to pull away from Louis’s grasp, but Louis has him in a firm grip, and he’s not about to let Zayn go back to moping.

He really hopes that whatever Harry and Liam are discussing about can wait. As he approaches them though, the two separate immediately. Liam’s face goes as pale as a sheet and he looks tied between running away or digging a hole and burying himself in it. Harry, having got the gist of what Louis is trying to do, grabs onto Liam’s arm before he can escape. And now they’re all opposite each other, waiting for someone to speak.

“Hi,” Liam manages to squeak out and Louis’s beginning to feel like he’s become cupid.

Louis’s eyes drift over to Harry’s, he points behind him as if to say ‘let’s leave them alone’ and Harry nods and follows.

He really hopes this time that the two sort things out completely,  instead of running away from each other like they have done for a couple of days.

And now it’s just Louis and Harry standing a little way off by themselves. They both stare at the direction of their friends, a faint smile mirroring each other’s lips.

“I feel like we’ve helped bring about something great,” Louis says, and the words seem weird and they don’t really make much sense now that he thinks them over, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind.

He laughs quietly at this. “Yeah, Liam is a pretty great guy.”

Louis snorts at this, challenging Harry with his stare. “Yeah, but Zayn’s better.”

It’s not really his plan to fight tonight; he doesn’t want to fight with Harry because he doesn’t have the heart to do so at this point. But Harry doesn’t take it in offense at all. The little laugh that had escaped his lips before erupts into full blown hysterical laughter. Louis squints at Harry, but doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll make  _anything_  a competition won’t you, Louis?”

Maybe it’s true, but he’s only extremely competitive when around Harry. He wants to win everything when Harry’s around. He’s never thought of anything but competition when around him.

He shrugs in response as Harry’s laughter dies down. A cool gust of air brings goose-bumps to his skin once again that night. They’ve all gotten changed since the weird game earlier, but Louis’s freezing either way. He shivers, his teeth chattering.

“Are you cold?” Harry asks, stating the obvious.

Louis rolls his eyes at him. “Yes, I am. Well done, Sherlock.”

Harry isn’t affected by Louis’s words whatsoever, even if it came out as a little spiteful.

But Harry’s lucky; the boy seems as warm as possible with his beanie still on his head and his wonderfully warm looking coat. He doesn’t understand what it is like to be freezing right now. Louis’s about to say something along these lines, maybe add something sarcastic along the way, but he stops speaking when Harry takes off his beanie from his head, placing it over Louis’s.

“I hope that makes you a little warmer,” Harry speculates.

Louis glances up at him, unsure of what to say. This is the first time Harry has ever done something nice for him, and even though it feels really weird and not to mention  _wrong,_ he can’t say he doesn’t like it.

He pulls down the warm beanie so that it covers his ears. “It’s mine now, you’re not getting it back,” he sticks out his tongue playfully and saunters off to go find another bottle to down.

  

The next morning, Louis feels like the whole world has crashed on top of his head. Not only that, but he’s incredibly tired and even the noise of someone’s snoring is enough to drive him insane. He sits up from his position on the floor inside Zayn’s house, and peers around him. Cups and bottles are littered everywhere, food stuffed in the couches, and the music that had been playing the night before seems to be stuck at the same line. Louis lifts his head a little, and instantly falls back down, head first in the pillow on the floor.

And this is why drinking is bad for you, very bad indeed. Except, Louis never really thinks about the repercussions when he’s drinking, he sees it as something to deal with later. This is just the bad part; he sees getting wasted to be worth it.

He hears footsteps come into the living room and he wishes like hell that they would either help him get some ibuprofen or kill the person who’s snoring so bloody loudly. Although, Louis never seems to get what he wants nowadays, as the noise in the room just gets louder.

“Louis, get the hell off my floor!” Someone shouts in his ear, and Louis groans, hating Zayn for being such a nasty person in the morning.

“No I don’t wanna,” he whines into the pillow, gripping onto it for dear life as Zayn tries to pry him off his carpet. He manages to get him to his feet before Louis staggers back, falling onto the couch instead.

Louis sighs; hand reaching up to run through his probably mangled hair when he reaches something soft on his head.

“What’s on my head?” he asks, even though it’s really obvious but he can’t think properly right now because his mind’s beginning to feel like it’ll explode any minute.

Zayn rolls his eyes at him as he picks some of the cups on the floor and stuffs them into a black bag. He looks incredibly tired. Although, behind that he does look a little happier than he did the night before.

“It’s a beanie,” Zayn replies, throwing a black bag at Louis’s face, “Now stop sitting there and help me clean up.”

“Why is there a beanie on my head?” he mumbles underneath his breath as he begins to sit up, seizing the black bag.

And then he remembers who it belongs to: Harry.

 _Well, he’s definitely not getting it back. That’s for sure,_ Louis thinks as he remembers what happened the night before in bits and pieces. He still can’t believe how civilised it was between the two of them, but then again, it’s all in the name of getting their titles back. And that’s it. It’s just an act, if he thinks about it.

Except, he really doesn’t want to give the beanie back because of how warm it is, and it feels nice, it smells nice.  

Louis soars up at this thought and becomes dizzy at the sudden movement. He rubs his eyes, tiredness overcoming him. He needs to stop thinking so much. It hurts his brain.

So he starts helping Zayn instead, which kind of surprises the other boy. He becomes very authoritative, hitting the people who are still sleeping lightly on the head (or actually hitting them, but this depends on what he thinks of them) so they can join in on the morning clean-up. And because of all of this, he suddenly feels that he’s back in his role as Captain. It might not be on the field like he wishes, but it’s close enough. They’re all waiting for him to give orders, doing what he advises, and even though mostly everyone’s grumpy because of the alcohol, they listen to him. Louis realises how much he misses being like this with his teammates and how much he wants to be Captain, he wants it so much.

He finds Liam in Zayn’s bed upstairs (which makes something click in his head, and he’s happy for Zayn, he’s happy for the both of them) but decides to leave him alone. And then he goes outside and spots Harry by himself, smoking a cigarette.

And he doesn’t shout at him to move his lazy butt and start helping like he does with everyone else. For once, he’s not rude to Harry.

“You smoke?” Louis speaks up, which takes Harry off guard. The younger spins around seeing Louis standing behind him with a black bag filled to the brim with rubbish.

He shrugs at him, taking another puff of smoke. “Thought I’d give it a try, not sure if I like it though.”

Even though he says this, he doesn’t set the cigarette down. Louis drops the black bag, choosing to sit opposite Harry on one of the outside stools. He’s never really smoked before, hasn’t thought about doing it. But as Harry is doing it, he might as well give it a try. However, he doesn’t ask for permission, he snatches the cigarette right out from Harry’s mouth.

It’s not really anything that special, but it is like drinking, it stops everything for a while and holds it on pause.

“That was mine!” Harry pouts at him, folding his arms.

Louis smirks, “You said you didn’t like it.”

And now it’s an ongoing war between them once again, but for once, Louis doesn’t mind it. He doesn’t feel like wanting to hurt Harry just for the sake of it. But he likes teasing him, seeing him get all riled up even if it is over just a cigarette. He can’t say he’s not enjoying himself.

“Yeah, but I didn’t say you could have it,” Harry snaps back at him, and this time he’s the one that’s reaching out to him and trying to snatch the cigarette off of him. Louis bounces up from his seat, rocketing backwards as he watches Harry glare at him.

“Give it back,” Harry demands and Louis just cocks an eyebrow, deciding to saunter around the garden, still smoking the cigarette just to irritate him. Harry stands up and follows Louis and as he’s face to face with him, the older boy blows out a cloud of smoke in his face. “No way in hell,” Louis responds.

 It’s funny watching Harry’s reaction. Well, it’s funny until Harry manages to grab the cigarette back and elbow him in the stomach. And that really fucking hurts.

“I’m wounded, Harry!” Louis fake cries, “You’ve wounded me.”

He grabs onto the younger boy’s coat and pulls on the fabric. Harry looks at him like he’s lost his marbles.

“No actually, you really did hurt me. My stomach hurts now, thanks so much,” Louis grumbles and Harry shakes his head at him and laughs.

“That’s what you get,” he says and drops the cigarette on the ground, stomping it out with his shoe.

  

Whoever thought it would be a good idea to have practice on the same day after the party was clearly not thinking properly. He had to blame this fault on none other than Zayn. His teammates were not in the mood to do anything whatsoever. They weren’t putting much effort into playing. Louis could understand why, he was in the same state as they were. Even after having taken whatever he could to make himself feel better, he still felt like shit. And what annoyed him the most was that good old Harry Styles wasn’t affected at all. This was due to the fact that he hadn’t drunk a single thing last night that wasn’t water. He kind of envies him in a way; the boy doesn’t have a massive headache like Louis does.

After Zayn had kicked everyone out of his house, Louis had gone back to his dorm room to get ready for practice. He had forgotten to give Harry’s hat back, as it was currently placed on his bed. But the other boy either didn’t realize, or didn’t care. Now, they’re all listening to Zayn talk about the rules of the day and Louis can’t help the tug of jealousy inside of him.

His friend looks like he’s really enjoying being Captain. Louis knows he shouldn’t be feeling like this because it’s stupid and he knows he has nothing to fear. But he’s still scared. Zayn  _suits_ being Captain, and that makes Louis wonder whether Zayn’s better than he is. He wouldn’t usually be thinking this way, but his hangover is making him feel irritable. He keeps on thinking the worse things, he can’t help it. He’s beginning to convince himself that Zayn is better than him.

So for the whole time practice runs he is considerably quiet, just watching Zayn. He suddenly thinks now that Zayn likes being Captain, and now he has to ask him, even if he is being so very stupid.

As practice comes to an end, he waits until everyone else has left the field to talk to Zayn, he can’t help the nasty words that come out of his mouth.

“You seem to enjoy being Captain,” he observes and Zayn doesn’t think much of his suspicious behaviour, as he only shrugs.

“Yeah, well, you’re a better Captain than I am, Lou,” Zayn turns and smiles at him, but this expression fades as he sees Louis’s face.

He can’t help it, he really can’t. He’s been trying to forget about these feelings for so long now and he feels like he can’t take it anymore. Louis doesn’t want to take it out on anyone, especially not Zayn, but he can’t help himself.

“Really? Because you seem to be in your element at the moment,” Louis points out, “It’s almost like you’re happy you’re captain.”

“Louis, what are you talking about?” Zayn asks, his eyebrows furrowing.

The words come out like knives, quick and deadly. He hates himself as soon as they’re out in the open, but he can’t stop.

“You know what; you’re probably more suited to being this team’s Captain than I ever was. But maybe that was your plan all along; maybe you were hoping that something like this would happen so you could finally get your chance!” Louis’s being nonsensical he knows it. He’s losing himself, his voice sounding shrill and vulnerable. But Zayn doesn’t get it, Zayn doesn’t understand that he needs to be reassured that everything is alright, but then again, to think this way would be very selfish of him.

Zayn shakes his head at him, starting to walk off the field as Louis follows after him. He’s not getting any answers out of the other boy and because of this he’s beginning to panic. Before he was only giving presumptions. But what if he’s right? What if Zayn  _does_ want to be Captain?

“You should go home, Louis. You always say stupid things when you’ve got a hangover,” Zayn finally says after a while, but it’s not what Louis wants to hear. It doesn’t reassure him at all.

They’re walking in the direction of the dorms, but Louis hardly notices where his feet are leading him.

“But you’re not denying it! And besides, you seem to like bossing other people about, I mean, you’re brilliant at that!”

Zayn stops in his tracks, glaring at Louis with full force. It reduces Louis to silence immediately.

“Yeah, I do like being Team Captain, but that doesn’t mean I’m trying to steal it from you. I’m your best friend, why would you even think that,” Zayn sighs exasperatingly. “Besides, not everything has to be about you!”

Louis doesn’t know what to say. He knows everything he has said to Zayn over the last few minutes has been completely out of order, but he can’t help it. No one seems to care about how he feels. They never asked him how he felt about losing his role as Team Captain, even if he did mention it, they never took it seriously. And Zayn should have, Zayn should have realized that he wasn’t happy. But he never did. That’s the real reason why Louis’s so angry with him right now.

He doesn’t want to be here, but he doesn’t want to go back to his dorm room by himself. He swears underneath his breath, unable to look Zayn in the eye. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it. He knows if he says anything it will only cause a further argument. So he decides instead to walk away, because he doesn’t trust himself to say another word.

  

“Someone’s happy,” Harry says, grinning at Liam from across the room, who is singing some song underneath his breath and looking like someone who has won the lottery.

It’s cute that Liam’s so happy and Harry can’t help but smile for his sake. He’s glad everything is fine with his friend’s life now. Even though Liam had had quite a bit to drink at Zayn’s party the night before, he doesn’t seem to feel like some of the others who left the morning after. He’s singing while he’s making his bed, which is odd really.

Liam turns towards him, a giant beaming smile stretched across his lips. “As a matter of fact, I am,” he pauses, sitting on his just-made bed. “Because you know what? Zayn likes  _me_!”

Harry rolls his eyes and chuckles. “I could have told you that a long time ago.”

“Yeah but it’s better to hear it from Zayn than from you. No offence though,” Liam responds and now he’s swinging back on forth on his bed.

Harry hopes that Zayn doesn’t hurt him, because Liam is best when he’s this happy. He has faith that whatever relationship they have found themselves in will go well, and Zayn’s a nice guy, so there really isn’t anything to worry about. If Liam were to get together with Louis, for example, then that would be a completely different matter entirely.

But then again, Louis hasn’t been irritating the heck out of him recently. It might only be because of them having agreed to pretend to like each other, but when Louis isn’t shouting down his neck, he’s kind of alright.

 _Kind of,_ however, is not saying the guy is an angel from heaven because he’s closer to a demon from hell than that.

Harry decides immediately to think about anything but Louis, because he doesn’t need to think about him. He has an idea for Liam though, it might be fun to celebrate a little.

“We should celebrate this momentous occasion! I’ll go out to the corner shop to get some stuff,” Harry offers, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Liam seems worried about this decision. “No, you don’t need to do that! Besides, we don’t need to celebrate anything."

Harry rolls his eyes at this. “Oh come on, Li. I’ll get a DVD or something, it's not that big a deal. Does that sound okay?”

“Well, yeah. I guess so."

Harry nods and says goodbye before heading out of their dorm room. The school is pretty empty, as it’s a weekend, so making his way to their local shop is quite nice with no one about. It’s peaceful, and it gives him time to be by himself and think for a few minutes. He turns a corner, making his way past the pitch and then onto the sidewalk past some of the school buildings. And then he gets to the shop and sitting on one of the benches a few steps away from it is none other than Louis Tomlinson himself.

It’s like a repeat of the night before, what with the cans of beer surrounding him. An empty basket sits beside him and he’s leaning backwards, his head hanging. Harry’s tied between going over there and talking to him or simply avoiding him, but the boy doesn’t look good at all. So Harry takes slow steps towards him, unsure of how to approach the older boy. Louis moves his head a slight bit, and props it up, his eyes are bright red, and now it’s like a repeat from the night on the pitch again. Except, this time it’s in broad daylight and he’s definitely drunk or heading that way. Louis doesn’t seem to notice Harry until he’s right in front of him, and even then he doesn’t take him all in.

“Oh,” he hiccups, “You.”

He lifts a can of beer to his lips and Harry snatches it off of him, throwing it into the nearest bin. Louis stares after it, a pout appearing on his lips.

“Drinking that,” he mumbles, and Harry can tell the boy isn’t in a good state, but he doesn’t know quite what to do.

He obviously can’t just stand there, but then he can’t comfort him like a friend would. He isn’t his friend. In fact, he isn’t anything to Louis. He’s only his enemy.

But he’s going to try. Harry can’t say that he hates him as much as he did before, because he has to admit that he doesn’t mind Louis. But then again, what does he hate him for? He can’t seem to remember. When he looks at Louis in this state, he doesn’t want to hate him; he wants them to truly be able to be friends. It might be an impossible thought, a weird one that seemed to come out from nowhere, but that’s what he wants. But Louis doesn’t like him; his hatred’s thicker for him than it is for Harry.

“Are you alright?” Harry finally manages to say, and he says it softly, almost under his breath.

Louis looks up at him, his usually bright blue eyes clouded over. He can’t seem to look at him for long, as his gaze drifts away again.

“No,” he answers simply, “I’m not.”

Harry expected a more cynical remark from the older boy, so this little bit of truth takes him off guard. However, he doesn’t push him for answers, he waits patiently.

“You know….sometimes I think it’s your fault…all of it,” Louis begins, his words jumbling up, “But it’s not, not no, it isn’t no. You….you are at fault for other things but not for this.”

“I have no idea what you’re saying, Louis.” Harry furrows his eyebrows.

Louis ignores his comment and doesn’t clarify on what he’s trying to say. Harry can’t understand him, he’s always been preaching over the fact that all of this  _is_ his fault. And sometimes he thinks it is. He was the one who started that fight, even if Louis had provoked him. He could have ignored him, but he didn’t. And now they had both lost.

But if they hadn’t been put on the same team, then Harry would have still hated Louis with every fibre of his being. He doesn’t now, not really. He only hates him a little bit.

“No one understands,” Louis bites his lip at this, blinking rapidly. “No one asks me if I’m okay. Only you do it. And I’m supposed to hate you! Everything it’s….it’s fucked up, completely,  _fuck_.”

Harry doesn’t think about what he’s doing next, it’s entirely instinctive. He ignores the voice at the back of his mind telling him that he hates Louis, telling him that he shouldn’t care if the older boy is upset or not. Instead, he grabs hold of Louis’s shoulders, bringing him in. He wraps his arms around the boy and it’s weird and strange but it isn’t wrong at all.

And he realises something important. He doesn’t want to pretend to be friends with Louis. He wants to actually  _try._

Louis sniffles, his face pressed against Harry’s chest. “Don’t you think this is weird?”

“Yeah.”

Louis pulls away from him and they both sit down on the bench, side by side. “Let’s not mention this ever again.”

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments inspire me to write (and kudos and bookmarks!)  
> EDIT - 14/10/2013: And I'm currently writing chapter 6 NOW. So if you've noticed that this has been updated with no chapter another one will be up in an hour or so! Sorry :)


	6. Eyes like a car crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wants to help Louis, but he doesn't know where to start. Louis crosses a few of Harry's boundaries, and Harry tries to hide away from Louis in a tent.

  


Harry figures that  _shocked_ is a bit of an understatement for what’s happening on the field. In fact, Harry can’t even put his feelings into words, because he just doesn’t understand the situation.

But either way, chaos is ensuing without control right in front of him. He doesn’t know how to treat all of this, or what to say to these new teammates who he hasn’t completely gotten know yet. So he feels powerless while Zayn is pacing frantically back and forth, his eyes darting out in each direction, hoping to finally spot a familiar head running towards them. Of course, nothing does happen, and Zayn looks like he’s about to lose it.

 Louis didn’t turn up to practice.

 _So what?_  Harry keeps on thinking in his head.  _Does that matter, why are they acting like they’re sitting on a live bomb?_ Although as soon as he thinks this, he understands how Louis’s teammates are feeling. Harry hasn’t known Louis in a friendly sort of way before, but even when he full on hated the older boy, he recognised how much Louis loved the game. So, really, Louis skipping practice is unusual – and a tad bit worrying.

“I knew he’d do something like this,” Zayn announces, catching Harry’s attention.

It would be safe to say that Harry considers being acquaintances with Louis, at least. So he has a right to be curious about what Zayn has just said. He’s ignoring that niggling feeling in his stomach, that odd emotion of  _worry,_ but he’s finding any effort to do so to be futile.

“What do you mean?” he inquires, and Zayn’s head snaps around to look at him. Everyone on both football teams know that Harry and Louis don’t get along, which makes sense considering that Zayn is looking at him now like he’s a completely different person. Before, Harry wouldn’t have cared about any of this, he probably would have only been angry at Louis for screwing up their practice. But back then, he never thought he’d have a chance to properly get to know the boy, even if it was only tiny things like the fact that Louis has emotion inside of him. Now, he’s concerned. And he can’t fight that.

Even though Zayn’s taken aback, he answers Harry’s question. “Well, I – I had a fight with Louis yesterday, it was really stupid. We were both being stupid. But I didn’t think he’d take it to heart. And he didn’t show up to practice today, and he’s never done that, not even  _once._ ”

Harry suddenly remembers seeing Louis yesterday, drunk on cheap bottles of beer, going on about things that didn’t make complete sense in his head at the time. But whatever he was mumbling about back then is probably related to what Zayn has just told him. Harry was aware that something happened to Louis, but he had hoped that he would have been fine after he took him back to his dorm. He couldn’t get a complete answer from Louis, but the boy kept leaning onto him for support, as if Harry could alleviate his problems.

“ _I wish my friends were more like you,”_ Louis had said, standing outside his dorm room, his hand placed on the door, ready to push it open. Harry had looked at him with confusion, not understanding this statement. But it also gave him some sort of relief, he had felt happy to know that Louis didn’t think of him as an enemy anymore.

_“I wish they’d ask me if I’m okay.”_

Harry shakes his head, trying to dispel this memory from his mind. But he feels that all of this relates somehow, it has to. Zayn looks so distressed that his face is turning a sickly shade of green and Harry feels he has to say something, even if it may not help the situation at all.

“I actually saw him yesterday, in the evening. He seemed to be pretty upset…and drunk,” Harry starts but Zayn’s eyes are as wide as tablespoons.

“He was drunk?”

Harry feels like he’s stumbling into something far worse than he had thought. “Yes?”

Zayn runs a hand through his hair, but doesn’t say anything more. He bites his lip, appearing to want to move forward and get away from here, but his legs don’t move. He looks back up at Harry and there’s an overwhelming amount of trust there. And Harry can’t understand it, he’s only known Zayn for a short while and he is putting all of his faith in him.  

“If it’s okay with you, could you go and try to find him? I don’t think he’d want to see me right now,” Zayn’s voice wanders off in contemplation.

Harry doesn’t know how to respond to Zayn’s request. He’s not too sure whether Louis will want to see him either. In fact, if he does manage to find him, what is he going to say? Harry’s never been good with anything that involves Louis, because this kind of situation doesn’t feel normal. He’s outside of Louis’s group of friends, so he can’t understand why his presence would help matters at all. But Harry doesn’t have the heart to argue with Zayn, not when he looks so down as if everything that is happening is his fault. Harry may not know the entirety of what is going on, but he decides to do what is asked of him for once.

 

 

Harry has a vague idea of where Louis’s dorm is from the evening before, but it still feels weird when he finds himself outside the older boy’s door, his arm raised and ready to knock. He’s sure that if Louis is in there, he will probably try and push Harry away. But this time, Harry is going to be obstinate. He’s doing this for Zayn, not _really_  for Louis.

He takes a deep breath before his fist finally comes down on hard wood, resonating one loud knock. He waits patiently for the sound of trudging footsteps and the slide of a lock, but no sounds come from inside the room. Harry thinks at first that the other boy isn’t at home, and he’s ready to turn away and start looking somewhere else.

That is, until someone sneezes.

Harry knocks again this time, but louder and more insistent. “I know you’re in there, Louis. It’s Harry, open the door!”

Again no answer, so Harry resorts to bashing his fists against the fine wood so that Louis will get pissed and do what he says. Of course, it works, and Louis snaps the door open, yelling at him with a croaky voice to  _shut the hell up._ And now they’re face to face, the door frame being the only obstacle between them. Harry’s about to say something clever, but when he spots Louis, he stays silent.

Louis doesn’t look good; there are black circles around his eyes, possibly from lack of sleep. His eyes themselves are bloodshot, his face as pale as a sheet. He’s utterly wrecked.

 “What do you want?” Louis asks irritably, he looks around Harry’s shoulder, when he realises that there is no one else there, a disappointed expression crosses his face.

“You weren’t at practice.”

“So?”

“You’re  _always_  at practice.”

Louis snorts as he turns his back on the younger boy, taking a step back into his room. He walks over to his desk and falls into his seat.

Harry can see every aspect of Louis’s room now and there’s a feeling in his throat that he can’t describe. He warily makes his way over to Louis, taking in the piles of different forms of alcohol bottles, the littered packets of cigarettes that Harry was sure Louis didn’t even smoke. He had been trying to hide his concern for Louis, but now it is written plain as day across his face.

“What is all of this?” he questions aloud.

Louis doesn’t pay much attention to this statement; he’s too busy reaching out for a bottle of what looks like pure vodka. Harry can’t believe what he’s seeing, but it’s enough for him to feel like he’s the one who’s breaking.

Before the bottle reaches Louis’s lips, Harry grabs it from him, tossing it away. It’s again like a repeat of the day before, and Harry’s surprised at himself for not having caught on sooner. He just hadn’t completely noticed before, possibly because he didn’t think that Louis had the capability to stoop so low. Before, Louis looked untouchable, as if nothing could hurt him. How wrong Harry had been.

“You’re an alcoholic,” Harry states and Louis gawks at him, as if he hadn’t heard the phrase before in his life.

“I’m not!” he shouts, and maybe it wasn’t his intention to do so, but his voice echoes in Harry’s ears.

Harry scoffs at this. “Take a look around you and say that to me again!”

Louis’s breath hitches in his throat, stopping him from defending himself for a second time. He actually listens to Harry, his eyes casting over the room in disbelief. His hands scrunch up from where they are placed on his lap, his nails digging into his palms.

“Shit _,_ ” is all he says, all he can seem to handle. His eyes finally reach Harry, and he says it once again, his voice shaking this time.

Harry knows straight away how much he wants to help Louis, even if he tries to deny his help, Harry won’t stop trying.

He takes a cautionary step forward as Louis’s gaze drifts up towards him. “What can I do to help you, Louis? I don’t want you to be like this.”

Louis’s arm stretches out towards him, grabbing onto the sleeve of Harry’s football shirt.

“Nothing,” he finally says, “It’s fine, I’ll – this is only a relapse. I promise I’ll throw everything out and then I’ll be fine. So don’t worry, you don’t need to worry.”

But Louis’s wrong, he  _does_ worry, so much so that he knows right away that Louis is lying to him, straight to his face.

 

Even though Harry should be at least  _trying_ to act happy right now, he can’t seem to will a smile onto his face. His mind is centred too much on Louis and the sight that he saw of the older boy’s room. He keeps on seeing Louis’s wrecked face, his lost eyes that are telling him that  _it’s fine_ when in reality the truth is far from it. Harry may be worrying more than he should, but he can’t help it. He imagines Louis being sick like he did on that first night Harry had spent at Zayn’s house, but it would be worse this time. It wouldn’t just be an embarrassing moment that people would laugh at and talk about to tease Louis, because what happens if Louis went too far this time? And instead of walking away as if nothing’s wrong, he’s choking and can’t breathe.

The thought of this happening terrifies Harry and he hopes like hell that Louis does do something about this mess he’s found himself in. He can’t make the older boy stop what he’s doing, but it is obvious Louis has a problem that has to be dealt with. Harry wants to know what’s going on in his mind to make him act out this way, but then again, he’s not a mind reader. And Louis doesn’t seem too ready to confess everything that’s been troubling him.

So that’s why Harry is unable to laugh and agree with Niall when he announces that they go out and celebrate Liam’s so-called victory over obtaining Zayn. He can’t be excited over the idea of going out clubbing, because he’d rather be alone, trying to mull over all that has happened. Harry kind of wishes that Louis was his friend, because if that was the case he’d have the right to ask what’s wrong. But he’s in this awful position where he wants to do something but he doesn’t know if he can. And Liam and Niall don’t seem to notice his odd behaviour; they’re practically bouncing up and down with excitement for tonight’s events. Yet, Harry can’t join in with them.

Liam turns his head towards Harry, nudging him with his elbow, a little smile appearing on his lips. “You ready to go?”

Harry can’t put the others down because of this; he wants them to be happy, especially Liam. He owes Liam a celebration; he was unable to throw the small bash he had planned the night before because of Louis. Even though Louis does concern him, he doesn’t want to jeopardize anyone else’s happiness.

So Harry nods, finally managing a grin to appear on his lips. “Yeah,” he answers and he wills himself for one night to stop stressing about all of this. He’s putting his faith in Louis, hoping that he will go through and do what he says, even if his expression earlier had said otherwise.

They all exit their dorm, the night air helping to calm Harry’s mind. He manages to laugh wholeheartedly at some of the things that Niall says and he forgets for a second the events beforehand. When they reach the first club, he’s already psyched for a good night. He doesn’t intend to drink much, not with the fact that he may have an alcoholic friend/acquaintance on his hands. But he doesn’t need to drink to have fun, and he’s known that ever since he had first got terribly drunk at a party on his first year in secondary school. He had awoken with the worse possible hangover the following morning. It isn’t a pleasant memory.

Either way, the music and the atmosphere in this club is enough to lighten his mood; he feels that he can halt all problems on standby. He slings an arm around Liam’s shoulders grinning widely at him as they make their way over to the bar.

“So how does it feel to be no longer a single man, Li?” he asks, prodding Liam in the side, but Liam only beams back at him.

“It feels brilliant. I still can’t really believe it. And I can’t seem to stop smiling either!” Liam laughs loudly, and Harry knows now how happy his best friend is and he hopes this never has to change.

Liam takes a seat on one of the stools by the bar as Harry does the same. “Well, it’s unlucky for you because I’ve noticed a lot of guys and girls looking your way.”

Liam goes a deep shade of red before shaking his head vigorously as if he can’t quite believe this statement. But Harry’s being truthful; Liam’s always attracted attention what with his physique and his lovely personality, tonight is no different than other nights.

“What about you?” Liam shouts over the sound of the loud bass, “You should try and get out there, Harry.”

And it’s the first time in a while that Liam has brought up something like this, but Harry already feels like wanting to sink into the ground and disappear. He knew this conversation was coming, in fact, he had expected it sooner.

“Nah, there’s no one I’ve taken an interest in yet,” he replies.

Liam frowns at him. “But what about Nick?”

It’s at this point that Harry blanches, he had completely forgotten about the Nick-problem because of the Louis-problem. Now he really wishes he could disappear. It’s safe to say though, that he’s been avoiding Nick like he’s an expert. They had almost become friends again, and instead Nick had decided to ruin their chance of mending their friendship by attempting to kiss him again. Granted, he was drunk. But it wasn’t like Nick had made an effort to try and apologise for what had happened. So Harry had kind of forgotten about it and left the matter be. He hopes Liam will do the same.

“There’s nothing going on between me and Nick,” he confirms, “I’m a single man.”

Liam shakes his head, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “If you actually  _tried,_ I’m sure you wouldn’t be single anymore.”

Harry raises his eyebrows at this, he hasn’t thought about his love life like that. He will admit that he’s alright looking, maybe not anything special, but if Liam thinks he can get someone then he’s sure to take that as a compliment, as well as a bit of a challenge.

He stands up immediately, eyes casting out into the crowd, at the moving bodies on the dance floor. For a second, a nervous feeling is creeping up his throat, but he dispels it as he looks back down at Liam.

“Sure,” he shrugs, “I think I’m going to go test this theory of yours, Payne. Back in a bit.”

Except, he probably won’t be, and he trusts Niall will return from wherever he is so that Liam doesn’t have to sit by himself even if it is for a short while. Although, when he turns his head around to check up on the other boy, he’s already having a chat with a girl beside him. He’s certain that Liam will cope with being away from him, even if it is for a short while.

Harry makes his way out into the crowd, already being surrounded by the mass of gyrating bodies. He’s already beginning to feel the heat surrounding him, his shirt sticking to his body like a second skin. A girl dances up to him and he joins in laughing at her odd but endearing movements. Even when she attempt different tactics by trying to grind down on him, her body close to his, he doesn’t really care. Only feels alive for one second because he’s forgetting, because he’s in the moment.

There are arms that circle his waist, pulling at him from behind. He breaks away from the girl in front of him, but she only pouts and finds another partner to dance with. So he’s alone with strong hands holding him closer, and it’s a male, definitely. Harry stares down at the hands, wondering who they belong to. The boy behind him presses his lips to Harry’s neck sucking and kissing, tugging at his ear with his teeth. The boy turns Harry around by his hips, and Harry is frustrated when he can’t see the other boy’s face because the lights are illuminating everything but them.

But it doesn’t seem to matter, because whoever is in front of them is a hell of a dancer. Their bodies are pressed against each other, leaving no space in between. Harry’s breathing down on the other boy’s neck, while his partner continues with the god damn kisses, up his jaw and reaching to the side of his mouth. And Harry doesn’t know why exactly but this is the first time ever that he’s wanted to kiss anyone so badly. He can hardly breathe, but he wants to see this person’s face, see the person who is sending all his thoughts to nonsensical places.

They’re  _so_   _close_  to kissing, so close that Harry can feel the ghost of the other boy’s breath on his lips. And then he looks down into the other boy’s eyes, a blue that he knows and remembers, even in this state of mind. He breaks apart immediately, his hands pushing at the other boy’s chest. He stares at him in horror, unable to move. He’s not only bewildered but he’s also furious too.

Because it’s Louis that he was so close to kissing, but Louis looks so far gone right now that he’s certain that the older boy doesn’t even recognise him. He’s pouting at him, reaching out for more. If he knew who Harry was, then he wouldn’t be doing this, he would  _never_ have done this.

“I can’t believe you,” is all Harry can get out. He’s too confused to take in the situation properly. But he’s angrier than he’s ever been before, because Louis had said he’d stop this and he didn’t. In fact, he’s so drunk that he just isn’t  _there_ anymore. Louis’s too intoxicated to realize what’s going on around him and Harry hates that, he wants so much now to hurt him for this idiocy.

Harry shakes his head over and over, but Louis isn’t deterred. He’s snaking his hands around Harry’s waist again, whispering to him to  _be a good boy for me, love_ but Harry doesn’t want to be anything for Louis at this point. He wants away from him, he wanted a night out in order to forget, not to remember.

“Do you even recognise me, Louis?” he asks, “It’s Harry.”

Louis stops in his tracks, his whole body turning rigid. “Harry,” he whispers, his face scrunching up with annoyance. “Stupid beanie wearer.”

Harry’s trying to edge out of the crowd, but Louis seems to be following him. “Yeah, that’s me. And I’ll let you call me stupid because I’ve got so many inappropriate words right now I want to say about you.”

Louis makes this odd sound, a mix between a whine and a giggle. “Okay, talk to me,  _talk dirty to me._ ”

And again he’s trying to make his advances on Harry again, but this time Harry isn’t pliant as he was before when Louis’s identity was concealed by the darkness. He doesn’t want Louis anywhere near him; he doesn’t want to take advantage of him when he’s like this. He grabs at Louis’s hands, holding them in a vice grip so that Louis won’t be able to move, no matter how hard he struggles.

“Listen to me, I’m so mad at you right now and I am  _this_  close to my limit. You don’t want to be doing this with me, I’m your enemy, remember. You hate me,” he insists, but even these words don’t seem right in his mind. Harry personally doesn’t hate Louis anymore and he doesn’t think of him as his enemy. Still, this is all going a step too far.

Louis’s eyes gaze back at him, and Harry’s stunned by the words he says next. “No, I don’t. That isn’t true.”

It’s the first time Harry has heard these words from Louis, but he is so very relieved. His grip on Louis’s wrists softens, as the older boy’s hands fall to his sides.

“But don’t tell that to Harry though,” Louis grins, and he’s beginning to stagger in front of Harry before he falls face first. Luckily, Harry manages to catch him, but with Louis unconscious in his arms, he’s not sure what to do next.

 

The world is a whole big swirl of different colours right in front of Louis’s eyes, and as he stares out into the distance, he can’t help but feel entranced.

He had knocked himself out before, in fact, he remembers falling, but he hasn’t got a hell of a bruise on his forehead like he supposes. He touches his head, just to be sure, but there’s no raised lump or ache anywhere. He blinks once or twice, before taking in his surroundings. At first, everything was only a blur, but as things start to become clearer, he realizes where he is. He’s in a taxi at the back seat; his whole body is pressed against the window. He squints at this, he can’t remember getting in a taxi or even ordering one. In fact, he has no money; he was planning to walk home, even if it did take an hour or so. He wants to say something to the taxi driver, but words are something he cannot form. Instead, he looks around him, and notices he’s not alone in the back seat.

He might still be a little hazy from the alcohol, but he’s sure that the person sitting next to him looks a hell of a lot like Harry Styles. He even has the curly hair to boot! As soon as he thinks this though, he’s overcome with a terrible sadness. He’d been trying to forget about it, but this curly haired fellow has brought reality to the forefront of his mind. He had promised Harry that he’d stop, but he couldn’t. He doesn’t understand why he feels so guilty, but he’s so close to blubbering like a full on idiot. Still, crying is for babies, and the ex-captain of an amazing football team is not going to succumb to tears. Not now anyway.

Instead, he wants to talk to someone, anyone at all. He needs reassurance that everything will be okay, even if deep down he knows it won’t be. He straightens up from where he is sitting, his sudden movement drawing attention to the Harry-lookalike in the car. He meets his stare full on, but the Harry-lookalike seems so disappointed, and that’s when Louis realises that this person isn’t just a lookalike, he  _is_  Harry.

“I’m sorry,” Louis finally says after the short but painful silence that had followed the staring. He’s not too sure why he said it, but he feels like he needs to. Harry’s expression, however, doesn’t change.

Harry turns to face him directly; his whole body angled his way. Louis doesn’t know how to handle him at this point; he doesn’t know how to handle a Harry that’s genuinely this worried for him.

“You promised me,” Harry reiterates.

Louis wants out of this taxi; he doesn’t want to deal with someone else who is disappointed in him. He can’t seem to move though, not even to avoid Harry’s questioning eyes. He can’t even bloody speak.

Harry frowns at him. “Why do you keep on resorting to alcohol?” He waits patiently for Louis to say something, when nothing is said; this only makes his voice sound more urgent. “Can’t you tell me, I mean, I could try and help you.”

It’s ridiculous really. Louis’s hated Harry for as long as he can remember, but when his life begins to become dire, the only person who’s kind enough to want to help him has to be Harry. He can’t help a tiny laugh escaping from his lips at the thought of it.

 _Harry isn’t bad, I guess,_ he thinks.

He opens his mouth to speak, trying to work out the words into a coherent order in his head. “You know that saying:  _you don’t what you’ve got until it’s gone_? Yeah, I don’t. And I don’t know any other way to deal with all of this, I don’t. I don’t know at all.”

Louis brings his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them. He’s always been like this, dealing with his problems quietly through methods of alcohol. Usually, it works, but this time he can’t help but keep reaching out for more and more. He doesn’t know how to stop, doesn’t think it’s possible to do so anymore. He thought before that he could deal with things on his own, but because no one seems to notice what he’s going through, it makes things worse.

Harry is different. He wants to help him. Louis can’t understand it.

Louis doesn’t need to be clearer with what he has just said, because Harry understands him perfectly. There’s sympathy in his eyes. “This is all about the game isn’t it? I knew how much being Captain meant to you, but I didn’t think it would be like this.”

“I feel like I have no purpose if I’m not being Captain for my team,” Louis confesses, “But I wouldn’t have resorted to doing things like this if people would have just asked me if I was okay. No one did. And they were supposed to be my friends!”

His voice is becoming shrill and uncontrollable, and even though he had willed himself before not to cry, he can’t help his emotions take control. The worse thing is that he’s doing this in front of Harry, and he really hates the idea that Harry can see him in this state.

Harry doesn’t say anything mean like he would have done a few weeks ago; instead he reaches out to him, caressing him.

And it’s the weirdest feeling, but Louis likes it.

“Hush, it’s okay,” Harry soothes him, and Louis finds he’s beginning to breathe properly again.

He’s thankful that the taxi driver isn’t paying much attention to any of this, but Harry’s really all he can see at the moment.

Louis grabs onto his wrist, trying to pull him closer. “Would it be too weird to ask you to hug me?”

Harry freezes at this for some reason, he pulls an odd expression that Louis can’t quite fathom, but it disappears once Louis’s pulling him in again. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer anyway.

Louis feels like he’s been hugging Harry a lot recently, so he’s allowed to think of the younger boy as an actual friend now. He can’t remember why he hated him, but he doesn’t dwell on this thought. Louis wraps his arms tightly around Harry, and it’s not awkward at all really, even if they are wearing seatbelts that don’t like stretching too far.

He manages a tiny smile to reach his lips, as he feels Harry breathe lightly. “Louis,” the younger boy starts, “There’s actually something else…”

“What?” Louis questions, suddenly curious.

“Tonight, do you remember…?” He stops in mid sentence. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t matter.”

And Louis takes it to believe that everything is fine between them, and for once in very long while, he feels a lot better with himself.

 

Mending his friendship with Zayn is a scary thought; he never knows how to deal with Zayn when he’s in a piss with him. Except, if he hadn’t done anything then the two of them would have never made up, and that just can’t happen. Louis loves Zayn in a friendly way and he doesn’t want to muck up anything else in his life. So, luckily enough at the time, he had been in a brave mood to fix his friendship with Zayn.

It was kind of a bit awkward to say the least, he had to confess his guts to the other boy, but once he did so, he kind of felt much better. But he didn’t say everything, like the fact that he had stooped down to becoming an alcoholic. And that’s another thing that he doesn’t want to deal with.

Harry’s a nice guy now, Louis will admit that fact. But he’s on his case twenty four-seven about his drinking habits. Louis’s been trying to stop, but doing that is harder than he first anticipated. First of all, he’s beginning to hallucinate. He’ll be playing on the field and the next thing he knows he’s seeing a giant bottle of vodka towering in front of him.

 So basically, he’s going mad.

And he feels awful really, because Harry expects him to be fine now, and he’s not. He’s still drinking, maybe not as bad as before, but he isn’t trying hard enough. And the worse thing about it all is that it doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t really care. And he wants to care, but he can’t. Louis hopes like hell that Harry will just stop worrying about him and leave him alone to drown himself in his own miseries.

However, Zayn decided pretty recently that the two teams should have a little camping trip. This only meant camping in the woods by the school for the heck of it, where there was a giant grass area that could be made into a camping site and a pitch for a game of footie. Louis decides on this little trip of theirs to forget about his problems temporarily. He’s been put in a tent with Aiden, and he vaguely remembers Harry putting up his tent with Niall. The boy hasn’t been bothering him that much so far, but for some odd reason he’s not entirely thankful for it. He kind of liked the attention.

Everyone’s already rushing onto the field to play an innocent game of football with both of the teams. Harry decides this time that he wants to go back on his team, and he gets away with this only because Zayn’s lenient and Liam’s looking at him with puppy dog eyes. So, for once in a short while, Louis feels like things are back to normal. Well, sort of.

Zayn claps a hand on his back, football in hand. “Do you want to take the Captain position today?” he asks him.

Louis’s face brightens up like a light bulb. He’s glad he confided in Zayn about how much he misses his role, because now he has the chance to relive it again.

He grabs the ball from his team-mate's hands and saunters onto the field. Harry’s opposite him, he’s obviously been given the chance to be Captain on this little trip too.

“Ready to die, Styles?” Louis’s fingers grip onto the ball.

Harry snorts. “That’s a bit dramatic.”

“So you agree that your team is going to lose?”

“Not a chance,” Harry quips, prodding Louis in the chest.

 _It really is like old times,_ Louis thinks.

And then a coin is tossed in the air, and Harry’s team gets the ball first. Louis pretends to be extremely irritated by this fact, but he’s so happy for things to be like this. He’s missed this so much.

It is a friendly game, really. Louis’s team has scored plenty of goals (Louis having scored one or two of those goals) while Harry’s has done the same. It’s a close shot between which team will win. Louis watches carefully as Niall runs with the ball to the far end of the pitch, and Louis notices an opening that he decides to take. Niall doesn’t have anyone in his team up that way he can pass to, and if Louis times it right, he’ll be able to steal the ball easily. He’s ready to intercept, breathing in heavily, until someone else is doing the same thing to him, and he’s falling in a tangle of limbs.

“Whoever is on top of me you’re bloody heavy,” he yells but he’s not angry. He’s actually laughing like a maniac.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, but he’s trying to restrain his laughter too.

Louis rolls over, but Harry hasn’t moved from his spot on top of him. Louis can vaguely hear voices around him, but everything stops when he sees Harry’s face.

Harry is blushing.

“I’m sorry!” Harry exclaims again, but this time it isn’t through uncontrollable laughter. He jumps up to his feet, Louis staring up at him.

There’s a weird change in the atmosphere, and Louis doesn’t know quite what to do about it. Harry seems awkward when he extends a hand to help Louis up, and Louis can’t help but feel a sense of de ja vu. He takes his hand anyway, gripping onto it tightly.

And then they stay like that for awhile, before Harry finally lets go and turns away from him.

Louis can’t help but feel something weird is going on.

The game finishes there, and the boys decide next to sit around a campfire that they had made earlier. Once they’ve got the fire starting, Louis feels his mood only get better. He chats with Aiden, Ed, and Zayn for a while, even starting a conversation with Liam. He stops immediately when he notices Harry sitting by himself at the other side of the circle, not interacting with anybody.

Something definitely is going on. He’s sure of it.

It’s a bit of a sudden decision, but before he thinks it over he’s leaving to sit around the other side of the circle to be with Harry. The younger boy doesn’t look at him; he seems too mesmerized by the fire.

“What’s up?” Louis nudges him.

Harry glances at him, and then back at the apparently more interesting fire.

“Nothing.”

“There’s  _obviously_  something.”

Harry bites his lip contemplatively, turning his body towards Louis. “Well I – there’s actually erm…something that I…”

“Spit it out, Harry.”

“Do you remember what happened at the club? Before we got into the taxi?”

The little smirk that may or may not have been on Louis’s lip falters. He probes his mind for any memory of the previous night, but all he can think of is that awkward hug and his awkward tears. He doesn’t want to relive that experience, but Harry just has to bring it up. He doesn’t understand what he wants him to remember, the only thing that comes to his mind is flashes of him dancing and drinking. Other than that, everything else is a blur.

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t. Sorry.”

“Then it doesn’t matter,” Harry sighs.

Louis can tell that Harry doesn’t want to talk with him, but he’s not going to let him just ignore him like this. Louis likes talking to Harry, more than he really wants to admit. If there’s something wrong with him, then he at least deserves to know so that he can help him. In fact, he owes Harry that. If he doesn’t open up to him, then whatever they have here isn’t fair. Louis can’t be the only who is honest.

“It does matter though, doesn’t it?” Louis muses out loud, “Did I say something stupid to you last night? Is that why you’re acting weird now? But you were fine in the taxi…”

Harry interrupts. “It’s not what you said but what you  _did_.”  As soon as he says it he looks like he regrets it.

“Oh,” Louis says.

And he doesn’t know quite what to say after that because Harry’s being way too vague to make any logical sense. But he feels like he doesn’t want to dig any further. He’s just confused. He assumed by now that they were friends.

Harry shakes his head at him and stands up on his feet, walking in the direction of the tents. Louis watches after him for a second and considers leaving him alone. He decides to ignore this thought.

He’s rushing after Harry, not bothering to say where he’s going to the others by the campfire. Harry and Niall’s tent is one of the tents further back, away from the sound of the laughing voices from the campfire. He watches as Harry slips into the tent, zipping it up so that Louis can’t follow him in. Louis rolls his eyes, crouching on the ground.

“Come on, Harry. Open up,” he insists.

He can hear Harry moving about in there and then a loud and irritated voice follows. “No! Piss off!”

Louis’s jaw falls open with astonishment; it’s strange to hear Harry treating him like this. But it also makes his great mood from earlier into a grouchy one.

He’s not going to let Harry stay in there away from everyone else. Not until he’s got some clarity over the situation.

Louis begins to start pulling on the zip to open the entrance to the tent, but Harry’s hand flies at it, forcing from the other side to pull it down.

“I said go away!” Harry urges.

Louis can’t help but shout back at him. “I’m not going to!”

“But you should!”

“I don’t care!”

And Louis finally wins the battle against trying to get the stupid zip to open up the tent and he’s jumping in with stealth that he’s sure is probably inhuman. Harry blinks at him for two seconds, before he’s trying to lunge for the exit. Louis doesn’t let him, he grabs onto his shoulders while Harry starts to swat at him. He manages to push him down with as much force as he can manage and finally Harry stops fighting.

“What’s wrong with you?” he questions, “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not,” Harry whispers underneath his breath, but Louis catches on.

Harry should stop lying; he’s not good at it at all.

“You are!” he persists, “Aren’t we supposed to be friends now?”

It’s the first time he’s ever addressed this matter in the open. Beforehand he had assumed that this matter was true. He didn’t feel like he needed to ask Harry, he thought that Harry felt the same way. When Harry doesn’t answer his question immediately, a horrible feeling of disappointment lodges in his throat.

Harry finally looks at him straight in the eyes, his voice attempting to sound clear and confident. “Are we? Is that what we are?”

Louis’s fingers are probably digging into Harry, but he doesn’t care. He presses down on him hard, wanting to injure him so badly.

Harry manages to sit up from his grip, pushing Louis away as he attempts to make a run for it once again. Louis swears, grabbing onto Harry’s ankle as the tall boy falls face first. Louis crawls towards him, but he doesn’t expect Harry to push at him, pressing his body up against the material of the tent. Harry’s hands are at his wrists, and they both are breathless.

“So is that it? Do you hate me still? After everything?” Louis challenges.

He wants to provoke him; he wants to let out his anger until he’s numb with no feeling left. But he doesn’t expect Harry to lean forwards like this, so close that there is no gap between them.

“I do, I  _really_  do,” and then Harry is pressing his lips against Louis’s, and Louis is confused and bewildered and fucking aroused all at the same time.

He attempts to push him away, but Harry has managed to turn him into putty in his hands. He’s kissing him with urgency and sheer need, his hands on the back of Louis’s neck. Louis can’t help but kiss back, his own hands tangling in Harry’s unruly locks of hair, and he’s pulling at it in an attempt to pull Harry closer. Harry’s mouth opens in response, a tiny gasp escaping his lips. Louis takes this moment to place kisses down Harry’s neck and suddenly images of him doing the exact same thing the night before appears in his mind.

 _Oh_ , he thinks,  _shit._

Harry is trying to kiss him again, his hands splayed on Louis’s stomach. But this time, Louis finally snaps back to reality.

“What are we doing?” he asks, watching behind his eyelashes as Harry’s fingers delve underneath Louis’s t-shirt, dragging over Louis’s skin.

Harry leans in, lips pressed against Louis’s ear. “I don’t know,” he pauses, “But I like it.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii. Thanks for reading this my lovely readers! Feel free to leave me a comment or kudos/bookmark. I appreciate it so much! I hope this chapter was okay, it took a while for me to write... and sorry, no full on sex (yet).  
> The next one should be up this time next week :)  
> And I'm so sorry for this update's confusion!


	7. So sorry lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's both a lot of good and a lot of bad.

If Louis is counting – and he sure as hell _isn’t –_ it has been two days since the impromptu kiss that he had shared with Harry in the boy’s tent. At this point, he finds himself unable to put it all together. Harry had kissed him, and he had kissed him _back._ It’s confusing to say the least, considering that the two of them were out to get each other not that long ago.

And now Louis can’t stop thinking about how soft Harry’s lips had been, or the effect his tongue had on him, sending him weak in the knees. The worse thing about this whole situation is that he hasn’t seen or heard from Harry since that time. Now he doesn’t know what to do next.

It isn’t because they’re avoiding each other; in fact, Harry has been sending him texts reminding him of his very existence. But they haven’t had practice for the last few days, and due to this, Louis hasn’t had a chance to talk to Harry to figure out what is going on.

 He’s thinking about this too much, he’s aware of this fact, but he knows the last time Harry had kissed someone (Nick Grimshaw – and Louis had witnessed that diabolical) it didn’t mean anything. The action itself was empty. So it all comes down to why Harry did it in the first place, and Louis is finding himself confused over this matter.

And then his texts imply that whatever did happen in the tent didn’t happen, or at least isn’t important enough to discuss. Harry doesn’t seem to be acting any differently than usual and that’s what Louis can’t understand. He knows full well that he no longer hates the younger boy, but some things about Harry send him on edge.

So it is natural that when Zayn organises football practice after school on a Wednesday, Louis’s first thought is to walk right up to Harry and ask him straight to his face why any of this has happened in the first place.

Harry’s a bit late to practice, but he’s running onto the field dressed in full kit, so no one gives him a talking to. He smiles widely at Zayn and apologises, and his gaze drifts over to Louis’s.

Louis doesn’t know quite how to act around Harry, but he tries to attempt a smile, but it turns out to look more like a frown than anything else.

Harry stands beside him for a few minutes before he finally speaks up and breaks the excruciating silence. “Hey, are you okay?”

This in itself could mean two things. First of all, Harry could be referring to his obvious alcohol problem (which he is dealing with, he is trying to stop but he couldn’t help but take a beer from his dorm room’s fridge last night – it was only one beer!) or he could be referring to what happened between them.  

Instead of answering Harry’s question directly, Louis nods once.

Harry clearly won’t take just a non-verbal response. He’s worrying his lip, his eyes darting from Louis to the rest of his football team and back again. He wants to say something to him, but the people around him are holding him back. Louis wants to use this fact to his advantage; escaping any form of awkward conversation is probably ideal.

Except, nothing ever seems to go his way. Harry reaches out and places his hand on Louis’s shoulder. Louis looks at it and knows instinctively where this is going.

“I think we need to talk,” Harry proposes, “In private.”

Louis raises an eyebrow at him. “Right now? In the middle of practice?”

“We’ll just sneak out,” Harry shrugs like this statement itself isn’t utter blasphemy, “Come on.”

Louis’s about to snap at him about the stupidity of Harry’s proposition. It sounds ridiculous in his head, never once has he skipped out on practice for anything. He might skip lessons once in a while, but that’s never the same thing. He can’t just walk away from his team over _anything_.

 But then all these thoughts go down the drain anyway when Harry proves that he won’t take no for an answer, he’s pulling at Louis’s arm, trying to guide him away from the field. It’s crazy how no one really notices they’ve gone, but Louis is certain that Zayn will be on his case about this.

Harry stops suddenly as they approach the doors of the changing rooms. He turns around to face Louis straight on.

Louis is preparing himself for the conversation they are about to have, but he’s got his own questions in line too.

He’ll admit he is disappointed, however, as Harry says something he doesn’t particularly want to hear. “Are you coping with withdrawal symptoms?”

Louis feels his shoulders sag instantly. He sighs heavily; he recognises at this point that he’s had enough. He wants answers,  he doesn’t want to have to keep going through this game of ‘what ifs’ before it drives him to the point of insanity.

So he voices his opinion without a second thought.

“Is that really what you wanted to talk to me about?” he demands.

Harry’s concerned expression transforms into a frown. Louis supposes he’s either really forgetful or just playing with him, Louis expects the latter.

“What else is there to talk about?” Harry asks, and Louis finds himself swearing profusely at the other boy in his head.

He snorts at this, shaking his head at him. “Oh, _I don’t know._ Maybe the fact that you kissed me?”

Harry blinks at him as the words begin to sink in. He bites his lip, unable to look him in the eye.

“Louis, it was…it was just a kiss.”

“So I’m with the likes of Nick Grimshaw am I?”

Harry’s eyes grow wide at this insinuation. He takes a shaky step towards him, but Louis just wants to be as far apart as possible.

“No, because that was different. It didn’t have any feeling. But when I kissed _you_ , I actually liked it,” Harry answers slowly, his face turning an embarrassing shade of red at the last few words.

Louis’s a little bit dumbstruck at Harry’s confession. He had actually assumed ulterior motives, like trying to mess with Louis’s head. He didn’t expect that this could have been a reason. Then again, Harry had said the exact same words to him in the tent, but at the time he had taken it to be Harry teasing him. Now that he realises there was some sincerity in his words, Louis’s not quite sure how to take it.

There’s a moment of silence between the two of them before Louis speaks out. “Then what are we?”

“I don’t know,” is Harry’s reply, and it is like a repeat of the night in the tent. It seems now, though, that Harry is trying to avoid the question. His brow is furrowed and his hands are fiddling with the sleeves of his football shirt.

Louis waits for something else, a better answer rather than this empty reply. He wants some clarity on the situation, but Harry is beginning to blur things even further than before. Frankly, it irritates him. If Harry doesn’t give him answers, then how is he supposed to work out this whole mess?

But he’s fed up, he can’t tolerate this anymore and he just wants to leave. He doesn’t even feel like playing football. He wants to be left alone so that he can figure things out by himself.

“Of course, you don’t seem to know anything,” Louis mutters underneath his breath before his eyes move to Harry’s own, piercing, “Well, just don’t try and kiss me again.”

And he’s turning around and rushing to the direction of the large wooden doors of the changing rooms, pushing the doors open with such force that they hit the walls beside them with a loud crack. Louis hopes that Harry won’t follow him, but he can hear the other boy’s footsteps chasing after him before he is being pressed roughly up against the lockers.

Louis tries to swat the taller boy away, pushing and shoving, but all his efforts to do so are futile. “Let go of me!” he insists, but Harry isn’t listening to him.

“Listen,” he urges, he grabs hold of Louis’s shoulders, gripping hard. “Listen to me!”

Louis goes silent at this, his protests halting. He doesn’t know why he’s obeying Harry, he should still be struggling, but there’s something in Harry’s eyes that makes him stop.

“I think I…” Harry bites his lip, swimming for words, “I think I like you.”

Louis’s first reaction is shock but this slowly changes. A small snort turns into uncontrollable hysteria. This whole matter is ridiculous. Harry is ridiculous. Louis’s now folding in on himself, clutching onto his stomach, but he can’t seem to stop laughing.

“Stop it!” Harry lightly hits at him, “It’s not funny.”

“But you…you _hated_ me,” Louis says, finally beginning to breathe properly again, “You’ve always hated me, how can that possibly change to something like that?”

Harry’s full out glaring at him. “I’m starting to feel like I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Louis’s biting his lip, his eyes clouded with tears of laughter. He reaches out hesitantly towards Harry’s hands, before threading his fingers through them, pulling Harry towards him.

“No,” he shakes his head, “Because, truthfully, I kind of liked kissing you too.”

Harry’s whole face seems to brighten up at this point. “Really?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Harry smirks, his eyes darkening as he moves closer. Before Louis can say anything else, Harry is closing the distance, his lips meeting Louis’s for a second time.

“I am going to annihilate you!” Louis screeches, running like a mad man towards the football. He kicks it perfectly, sending the ball flying in the right direction.

Zayn’s paying attention to where it is about to hit, he’s in a ready stance, his expression serious as he aims for it, and grabs hold of the ball with ease.

Louis groans, “Oh, come on! You could have at least gone easy on me.”

Zayn smirks, throwing the ball up and down in the air. He watches it as it falls back into the palm of his hand before his glance goes back to Louis, who is currently moping like a pro.

So Zayn got quite pissed over the fact that Louis and Harry decided to ditch, so their temporary team captain decided to teach them a lesson. This basically meant practice until Louis felt like his legs were about to detach themselves from his body. But it’s not like he’s not enjoying himself, even when football is used as a punishment, he still has fun. He can’t help it. Although, Harry at that point is running a few laps of the field, and that’s something that he hopes he won’t have to do too.

“It’s not my fault I’m an awesome goal-keeper,” Zayn sing-songs, ambling towards him as he chucks the football with as much force that it almost knocks Louis over. His fingers dig into the ball, as he raises his eyebrow.

Yes, it is obvious that Zayn is brilliant at being a goal-keeper and it’s also obvious that he misses this position on the field. He’s the best that Louis’s ever seen, or at least been on a team with. But Zayn never complains about anything, so Louis just assumes that he either doesn’t mind or doesn’t want to talk about it.

“So what are we doing now?” Louis enquires, “Can I go home?”

Zayn laughs at him once, a sardonic smirk appearing on his face. Louis doesn’t like that look at all.

“No, you and Harry are staying here until you understand how _bad it is_ to skip practice. And I don’t care that Harry isn’t a proper member of our team,” Zayn affirms, arms folding against his chest.

Louis groans for possibly the hundredth time in the past few hours. He’s tired to the point where he feels like collapsing on the ground and sleeping. He wants his bed, badly.

It’s then that Harry’s running back towards them; sweat beading down his forehead and his football shirt sticking obscenely to his chest. He runs a hand through his hair, the curls having deflated a little from the running.

“I’ve run all the laps,” he says, breathing heavily, “Can we go now?”

Louis feels sorry for the poor soul; he doesn’t know Zayn well enough to understand that this is utterly impossible. Zayn shakes his head and Harry pouts. Harry stands next to Louis, and Louis can tell that he’s looking at him through his peripheral vision.

Zayn looks down at a watch on his wrist. “Ah, I have to go now though. I’m meeting Liam to help him study – “

“Aw, cute,” Louis coos. “Does that mean we can go home then after all?”

“No way, you two are going to stay here for another hour and do the practice drills that I organised today,” Zayn orders as he grabs his bags situated on the floor, ready to jet off. “If you don’t, I will know. Trust me!”

And then he’s rushing off the field, sending a quick wave in their direction. Harry and Louis both watch after him, as Zayn disappears from sight.

Louis contemplates for a second whether to actually go home, but he knows that Zayn’s right. He doesn’t quite know how, but Zayn would find out if he left now. He glances towards Harry, and from his expression, it seems the same dilemma is going on in his mind.

“Alright, drills!” Louis declares, dropping the ball currently in his hands onto the ground, putting his right foot on it.

“Can’t we just play a mini game instead?” Harry suggests, “I’m tired of drills.”

Louis raises an eyebrow at him. “If you think you can defeat the awesomeness that is me.”

Harry snorts at this and in the next second he’s kicking the ball away from Louis, dribbling it in the opposite direction. Louis is taken aback for a few short seconds, but then he’s running after Harry with a guttural cry. He catches up, purposely getting in the way of Harry as the younger boy huffs in annoyance, faking left before going right.

Louis, however, catches onto this; he intercepts Harry and steals the ball from him. It’s at this point that Harry reveals his lack of sportsmanship, as he dives at Louis, throwing the both of them to the ground.

It doesn’t lead with a nasty break out of fists and yelling. Instead, the both of them are sprawled on the ground, Harry’s arms draped over Louis’s chest, while Louis holds onto the football like it is his whole life. They both turn their heads slowly towards each other, before both of them are laughing again.

Louis realises from all of this how much he actually likes playing with Harry on his team. Beforehand it had been his own personal hell, but now he enjoys it. He can’t think of it being any differently.

Louis glances away from Harry back up to the sky. It’s quite late, and the sky is beginning to take on an orange-pink hue. But Louis doesn’t feel so tired anymore; he no longer wants to leave.

Harry’s arms are still on him as the younger boy sits up, pulling Louis with him by his shirt. It’s here that he places a chaste kiss onto Louis’s lips, slow and perfect. Louis’s mind goes instantly numb; nothing else is left but the thought of _Harry_ and his spectacularly soft lips. He sinks into Harry’s touch, letting this feeling take over him.

He kisses back fervently, tongue licking at Harry’s bottom lip before Louis can taste all of Harry’s mouth. It’s the best feeling in the world, and Louis’s so happy that he can experience this. He begins to realise that not kissing Harry is an impossible thing, because he loves it, he really does.

Louis pushes forward, so his legs are splayed around Harry’s waist, and he’s practically sitting on the other boy’s lap. The kiss ends as Harry pulls away, grinning up at him.

“Maybe we should go back to the drills like Zayn said,” Harry advises, cocking his head slightly to look up at Louis.

Louis wants to laugh at this atrocious statement. He can’t possibly go back to doing anything right now. He wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, leaning in to place another quick kiss on Harry’s lips.

“I don’t think I can do that now. Your lips are just too distracting.”

Harry’s grin becomes impossibly wider.

The room is so warm right now, it has to be, because what other reason could there be to why Louis’s palms are sweating so much?

He’s biting his lip to the point where he’s sure there is blood. But this reaction is completely natural. He’s sitting rigidly in this wooden and very uncomfortable chair and his (whatever he is) Harry is sitting next to him. Opposite them both is their Coach, and that is precisely why Louis is beginning to freak out.

His first thought is that Zayn told him of their skipping practice, or that someone found out about his drinking problem and reported it to their Coach. Either way, Louis’s feeling like sinking into the ground so that he doesn’t have to deal with anything. He’d rather be at his dorm, trying to actually attempt his homework for Maths which he hasn’t even looked at yet over the last week. And that is saying something.

Coach Cowell looks stern, but that seems to be his overall expression when he has to deal with Louis and Harry. Louis wishes that he wouldn’t piss their Coach off so much, but now that he and Harry get along, there really is no reason for any accusatory staring. The Coach’s arms are crossed; he opens his mouth to speak but Louis interrupts in a worried frenzy.

“Whatever we did I am so sorry; please don’t ban us from our teams for good, just not Harry at least because surprisingly he’s a good player even if he’s not as good as me…”

Harry stomps his foot down on Louis’s toe, a tiny yelp of pain is induced from this.

The Coach chuckles at the both of them, and this sends Louis’s previous fears to bed. Both boys watch expectantly for their Coach to voice what exactly is going on.

“I’m really proud of the two of you,” the Coach smiles, a complete contrast to the last time they had all been in one room, where disappointment had swallowed up the atmosphere.

Louis’s eyebrows rise in surprise; he hadn’t expected this response whatsoever.

 “Over the last few weeks the both of you have shown great sportsmanship. Truthfully, I did fear that it would be difficult for you to be friends. But from what I’ve seen and what I’ve heard, it sounds like the two of you are getting along just fine,” Coach Cowell looks between the both of the boys; both have identical dumbfounded looks on their faces.

Louis’s eyes drift to Harry quickly. _We’re getting along better than **just fine** ,_ he thinks.

“So I’ve finally decided…because of the impeccable behaviour shown by the two of you, I am allowing you to go back to being Captains on your teams,” the Coach concludes.

At this, the silence seems to consume the room. Louis’s eyes are sure to be bulging, he’s running the words of his Coach over and over in his head and he can’t quite believe it. The disbelief that had set so deep into his bones fades away, and his second reaction is to jump from his seat, no longer so rigid against his chair. He cries with victory, reminiscent to the times that his team has won a championship. And he can do it again. He’ll be going to the championship as Captain of his team. He will finally be getting his life back.

Harry’s acting the same way, he’s virtually engulfing the Coach with his tall frame, hugging the man and laughing like an idiot.

“Thank you so much,” he seems to be repeating, and Louis opts for this as well. The two of them are behaving like excited puppies, but neither of them cares.

The Coach is happy for them too, but he pushes Harry away from him, patting him softly on the head. Harry can’t seem to stop smiling, he turns towards Louis, and now his hugging target seems to be the older boy. His gangly arms wrap around Louis, every part of Harry touching him. Louis breathes in before moving his own hands to grip onto the back of Harry’s jumper.

“I’m so happy,” he whispers, it was supposed to be only for him to hear, but Harry had caught it. He nods into Louis’s shoulder, his curls bouncing up and down with the movement.

And he is, Louis truly _is_ happy. He’s glad that he didn’t get to this point with contempt for Harry in his heart. If they had truly pretended to hate each other, this moment wouldn’t have been the same. Instead of this hug they are sharing, the atmosphere would be cold and fake. Louis’s glad things had turned out this way, he’s so glad to be able to be this comfortable with Harry.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the Coach coughs audibly, “But the two of you will have to leave now.”

Even though their Coach says this, Louis translates this into _well done._

Both boys entangle from each other’s grasp. Louis hums to himself, stepping out of their Coach’s office with Harry in tow. As soon as they shut the door behind them, Louis jumps up and down again in excitement. He notices Zayn walking down the corridor and he’s rushing off to his friend within a heartbeat.

“I’m Captain again!” he shouts and he’s ramming his body into Zayn, who looks frankly a little scared.

Harry stands a far bit away, smiling softly before walking in the opposite direction. Louis doesn’t notice his leave.

For the last few minutes, Louis has hugged and laughed with all of his team-mates. He feels like their Captain again, and it’s the best feeling in the world. They’re all so welcoming, patting him on the back and congratulating him on his success. Even at their first practice, they’re listening to him attentively as if nothing had changed. Louis loves his role as Captain but it would be a lie if he said everything was perfect.

There has been a few times where he expected Harry to come rushing onto the field, apologies falling from his tongue. When it clicks in Louis’s head that Harry isn’t coming to practice, Louis feels a strange feeling of disappointment. He can’t quite place it but it is beginning to bug him. His ridiculously happy mood from before has seemed to have deflated, and now he appears to be moping around the field, wanting to hear his favourite sound of Harry’s hearty laugh.

His head isn’t in it, and Louis is scared that his team-mates will notice this change in behaviour. But he has to get used to this change, he has to treat everything like it was before. Harry is a Captain on the other team, in some ways he is still his rival. But not in the way that he used to be.

Okay, he’ll admit, _he misses Harry._ He misses playing on the field with him, he misses interacting with him. In fact, he just misses Harry in general; he misses his whole bloody presence. But he has to deal with it, there’s nothing else he can do.

When practice comes to an end, he’s broken out of his stupor by Aiden’s loud voice. “Let’s all go out and celebrate Louis being Captain again!”

Everyone shouts in agreement and Louis really wants to interrupt and say that that is certainly not a good idea because of two very important reasons. If he did that, however, he’d have to explain his alcoholic tendencies and the fact that he really wants to see Harry right now rather than go out at all.

So he doesn’t say anything, he only nods and gives in.

“We should invite the other team as well,” Zayn suggests, “I’ll call Liam to ask him.” No one disagrees with him, or at least, no one says a word to object. But Louis’s mood suddenly shoots up incredibly fast and instead of sulking like a two year old, he’s gone back to smiling again.

He texts Harry a quick message with the details of what the boys plan. They want to go out clubbing, so he advises Harry to bring a fake ID card so the little sixteen year old can get in (which Harry snaps at, and yes, Louis can tell by his text that Harry did _snap)_. But then there’s a problem of drinking. Harry doesn’t say anything in his texts to Louis, but he knows that this is a subject that will be brought up soon. Louis tells himself though that he won’t drink, he’ll go clubbing for fun, and he won’t go and drink himself into oblivion.

They all plan on driving to the town and parking somewhere and there’s only a small number that are willing to go. Zayn ends up driving, while Liam sits at the front with him as they talk in soft tones to each other. And that leaves Niall, Louis, Harry, Ed, Nick, and Aiden as well as Josh who already seems kind of intoxicated. It’s an odd mix of people. Louis can see the tension between Nick and Harry, and he’s glaring at Nick, trying to convey without words how much he will hurt him if he goes near Harry.

 He doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, but he feels so possessive over Harry, and they haven’t been…whatever they are…for that long of a time. He doesn’t care though. He presses the side of his body closer to Harry just for the sake of it. He feels Harry’s hand meet in his open palm, and he’s ready for the accusations to come from the rest of the boy’s in the small car, but either no one notices or no one cares enough to ask.

Once they’re out of the car and close to the first club they spot, Harry’s pulling him to the side before Louis can rush in. Louis groans internally, he knows where this is going to go.

“You won’t do anything stupid tonight, will you?” Harry asks him, concern in his voice.

Louis shakes his head. “If you mean drinking, then yeah, I won’t drink.”

“Promise me. Promise me you won’t drink.”

“I promise.”

And Louis is confident that this time he will stick to his promises. He will do it because he’s doing it for Harry and for himself. He’s been to the bottom and he doesn’t want to go back. Louis might be struggling to stop drinking, but he’d do it for Harry. He wouldn’t betray his trust again.

The distress evident on Harry’s face fades away, he fits his hand into Louis’s and the conversation is dropped. They follow the others into the club, the loud sound of the music thumping in Louis’s ears. Louis observes the dancing bodies clustered together and the smell of booze in the air. His knees go weak at all of this, but he breathes in deeply, concentrating on blocking out any temptation he is beginning to feel.

The others all make their way to the bar ordering drinks, but Harry just stands there awkwardly.

“You can order a drink, you know,” Louis says, “I don’t mind.”

Harry pats his shoulder as a way to say thank you before taking off to try to squeeze his way to the bar to order a drink. Louis sits down at the far end on one of the stools, looking out into the busy crowd.

“You alright, love?” a voice comes from behind him, “Would you like a drink?”

Louis turns towards the voice, seeing a pretty redhead smiling at him.

“No, I’m alright,” he answers.

The girl doesn't take this as the right answer. “Are you sure? You’re sitting at the bar and not ordering anything, it’s a little strange.”

“I’m not supposed to be drinking anything alcoholic.”

“Ah, I see. Have something non-alcoholic then, you’ll be dehydrated if you don’t.”

Louis recognises that this girl’s behaviour isn’t right at all, her persistence is suspicious. But he wants her to stop nagging him. So instead he gives in, nodding as he orders a coke. She rushes off to get him his drink, and Louis turns his head to look back at the crowd, not paying attention to what she’s doing behind him.

“Here,” the girl says, handing the drink over.

Louis takes it in his grasp, staring at it for a second before sipping at it. It tastes strange, not quite like coke, there’s something extra there but Louis’s mind isn’t paying attention to it. He’s only thinking about how nice it tastes now, and how much he wants to drink it all. So he swigs it down in one, his head spinning from the sudden rush and the burn hitting his throat. Warning signs are going off in his head, but he’s shutting them down, closing each door that opens.

_Promise me,_ he hears Harry’s voice again in his head. _Promise me you won’t drink._

Louis orders another and the girl smiles at him, and Louis imagines that her red hair is actually fire and it’s reaching towards him, the fire burning out any cares he has for the world.

The queue at the bar had been long and irritating, there had been so many people pushing and shoving that Harry nearly decided to give up. He got there eventually, and the bartender didn’t even bat an eyelid at his fake ID. They obviously seemed to not care at all.

He makes his way back over to where he left Louis, and he knows that it’s been way too long since he last saw him. It’s stupid how much time he has wasted in a goddamn queue. But he’s bought Louis a coke as well and he made sure that no one decided to spike it. He spots Louis’s hair and his pace speeds up, he’s no longer sitting down, but there seems to be something off about him. He’s teetering from one foot to the other, a glass in hand as it sloshes each time Louis nearly drops it.

Harry doesn’t want to believe it, but he knows what has happened without seeing Louis’s face.

“And there was a giant snake that one of my friends decided to let out for fun but it actually…” Louis pauses in the middle of his story-telling, his gaze drifting from a redhead tending the bar (a predatory look that Harry does not like in her eyes) to Harry’s shocked face. “Hey, Harry!”

It’s then that it finally clicks in, the cluttered glasses left empty, all having been consumed by Louis.

Louis is drunk.

Louis is _drunk._

“Why are you drinking?” Harry demands as he grabs for Louis’s glass. Louis clutches onto it for dear life. Harry can’t believe any of this, he can’t fathom any of this at all. Louis had promised him. Why would he do this to himself?

“I’m not drinking anything alcoholic,” Louis’s nose crinkles up at this, “I was drinking Coca Cola.”

Harry is flabbergasted at these words. “You’re going to lie about this too?”

He can’t deal with Louis like this; he doesn’t want to face him. Harry decides instead to storm away from him, but Louis doesn’t leave him alone.

“Where are you going? I don’t understand…” Louis shouts after him, he keeps on mumbling something over and over to him, but Harry’s not paying attention. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Why do you hate me again? Stop walking away from me, stop it, stop –“

His words become incoherent and then they suddenly stop. There’s a loud thud that occurs next, and Harry halts in his tracks.

Louis’s collapsed on the ground and he’s choking. He suddenly passes out, and the whole world turns eerily silent.

Harry rushes towards Louis, pushing through the crowd. Harry doesn’t know what to do in situations like this, but he knows that Louis isn’t breathing, his breathing has completely stopped.

It’s then that Harry starts to shout for help, but no one seems to hear him, not over the sound of the booming music. He digs for his phone instead in his pocket, dialling 999 immediately. His hands are shaking, and he needs someone else to help him with this. The call goes through, but words aren’t something that Harry can manage.

“Oh my god,” Harry hears from somewhere near him, it’s Liam, his eyes practically bulging from his head.

Harry throws his phone into the other boy’s hand. “Please can you tell them…I can’t….I don’t know what to do.”

Liam nods, lifting the phone up to his ear as he starts to talk to the other person on the line. Harry looks back down at Louis; his skin appears to be pale. Harry touches his hand, a whimper surfacing at the temperature of Louis's freezing skin. 

Harry’s numb as he watches all the havoc pass by. He hears the paramedics checking for vital signs, announcing things that Harry had already noticed. _He’s not breathing…heart beat has slowed down…_

He can feel himself panicking, but he also feels incredibly useless. He isn’t able to do anything, he can only hope that Louis will be okay.

Harry goes in the ambulance with Louis to their local hospital and from the talk of the paramedics; he has a vague idea of what’s going to happen. Louis is going to have to have his stomach pumped as well as other things that Harry doesn’t want to hear. All he knows is that Louis is teetering on the edge, he could die from this.

He’s told by the paramedics that he can’t go in with them. He has to wait in the waiting room until they say so. Harry wants to argue with them, but he feels like he doesn’t have the heart. He nods solemnly, collapsing into a chair.

And that’s what he has been doing for a while, praying and hoping that everything is fine and that Louis will be fine.

He’s clenching and unclenching his fists, his body shaking every time he thinks of what could happen if anything went wrong.

But this makes him realise one thing: the idea of losing Louis scares him to death. He would never have assumed before how much Louis would mean to him, but this proves the exact opposite.

Their relationship has only just changed, but Harry feels like that’s how it should have always been.

It feels like a decade later when a woman walks in and calls his name. He rushes up to her, looking at her expectantly.

“Your boyfriend was spiked it seems,” she tells him, “We found a substance that would point to this. At the moment his breathing and heart rate has gone back to normal. He’s currently on a drip to top up his body’s water, blood sugar and vitamin levels. He should be fine.”

Harry doesn’t pay much attention to the boyfriend comment (although he sort of feels that this isn’t wrong at all). He’s focused more on the fact that Louis was spiked first. He bets like hell it was that redhead at the bar. But he had yelled at Louis believing that he had gotten himself in his state on purpose. He hadn’t realised.

“Thank God,” he collapses onto his knees with relief, “ _Thank God_.”  

“You can go in and see him, if you like,” the nurse proposes.

Harry’s up before she can finish the sentence. He puts a hand on her shoulder. “Yes, that would be brilliant. Thank you so much.”

She smiles at him, as he follows her down the white covered walls of the hospital. Louis is situated not that far from the sitting room, he’s at the end of a corridor in a room with one other patient. Harry can hear the sound of a steady heart beat, a sound that soothes him instantly. The nurse opens the door to let him in, and he sees Louis laying there, an IV drip attached to his arm. He finds himself without realising it at Louis’s side. He grips onto the boy’s hand tight and squeezes it.

“He’s unconscious now, but he should be awake shortly,” the nurse informs him, she is currently standing behind him.

Louis turns to look at the nurse. “Thank you,” his eyes catch the name tag, “Eleanor.”

“Well, you’re welcome. You can sit here with him until he wakes up if you want.”

“Yes. Please. I mean, thank you.” It’s probably silly that he’s thanking her so much, but he can’t help it. She and her colleagues are the reason why Louis is okay, he has to thank somebody.

She directs one last smile at him before exiting the room, shutting the door behind her. Harry turns his head back at Louis’s body, watching his steady breathing as his chest rises and falls.

It’s quiet in the room for a while, the only sounds being the two boy’s breathing and the sound of the heart monitor, reminding Harry that Louis is alive.

“I’m so sorry,” he finally speaks up, even though he knows that Louis isn’t awake to respond or hear him out. “I assumed that you had broken your promise to me. But I never thought that it could ever go this far…”

His fingers are intertwined with Louis’s, and he wants the older boy to squeeze back, but this wish is impossible.

“When you collapsed, even though I was _so_ mad with you, I was so scared. I thought I was going to lose you,” His voice breaks at this, and it takes a few seconds to compose himself again. “And then I realised how much you mean to me as a person – not as an enemy, or an acquaintance, or a friend, but as a person. Without you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

He imagines in his head the disbelieving look that would be on Louis’s face, the laugh that erupts from his mouth as he punches him slightly in the arm. _You’re kidding me, right?_ The laughter would fade away and he would be faced with Louis head on. And maybe they would kiss and maybe Louis would say something similar back, but maybe not as cringe-y.

And that’s all there seems to be right now, just ‘maybe’ and ‘what ifs’. He wants Louis to wake up so he can say all of this to his face. But all he’s left with is silence.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I really struggled with writing this. I've been putting off writing this chapter this whole week and I was deliberating today just forgetting it and trying to write it again next weekend. BUT. I managed to write something. I hope it's okay!  
> AND YES. I'm sorry for the ending ;(  
> This story will probably only have one more chapter left, we'll see. But there might also be an epilogue...  
> And please comment/leave kudos and bookmarks. It's so very appreciated!


	8. But all I find is you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis's conclusion is this: Harry's perfect in every way possible.

 

The first time, he’s not quite sure if he’s really awake. His eyes flutter open slowly as if the act of doing so puts a strain on his whole body. His world seems to blur, the only colour a harsh white, blinding and overpowering. He feels the warmth of a hand in his own, but he can’t connect who it belongs to, or why the hand is shaking.

But then he blacks out soon after, losing himself in the darkness as the tender and familiar warmth disappears as soon as it had come. He misses it, but he’s knocked out completely before he can remember _why._

The second time Louis wakes up, it’s not temporary. He’s not going to slip back into unconsciousness. Like before, the effort to open his eyes is tiresome. He feels like falling back asleep, his subconscious praying for him to do so. But this time he becomes accustomed to his surroundings, and soon he’s taking in where he is and what has happened.

The room he’s in is painted all in white, the curtains surrounding his bed a dull yellow colour that is beginning to fade. The curtain itself is pulled out; making sure that Louis can’t see who is in the bed beside him. There’s a chair pressed close to his bedside, but it’s empty.

Louis moves his head to stare it, noticing the way that it is propped against his small bedside table, as if someone had left in a hurry. He begins to hear the sound of the heart monitor from his right, and then finally it all clicks in. But he doesn’t want to dwell on it just yet; he doesn’t want to remind himself what he has done.

The echo of the _beep-beep-beep_ of the heart monitor isn’t the only sound in the room. There are whispers coming from behind the closed curtains, voices frantic with worry. Louis manages to lean up on his elbows, the effort forcing bile to the back of his throat. He strains to hear the two voices better, but he wants them to notice him. He doesn’t like being alone in this room.

He hears the first voice slightly clearer now, a raspy quality to it, as if the owner had been crying. “I don’t know what I am supposed to do.”

 _Harry,_ Louis realises, his hands gripping at the thought of the boy.

He bites his lip and suddenly feels like sinking back into nothingness. He’s aware of his stupidity the night before, and he can deduce from where he is what seems to have happened. Louis has never gone this far, never felt the need to drink to the point of nearly killing himself. But none of this feels right. He can’t remember what happened, he can’t remember actually _drinking._ Either way, he has betrayed Harry, and he has also broken his only promise to him.

Louis doesn’t want to know that Harry is disappointed of him. He’d rather be blissfully unaware than open to the awful truth. He wants to reach out to Harry, cradle him to his side and promise him _truthfully_ that this time he will do the right thing. But he can’t say this with confidence that he isn’t lying to himself.

“None of us realized how bad it was getting for him. We shouldn’t have gone last night,” another voice adds in, “We didn’t know he was going to drink so much like that.”

 _It’s Zayn,_ Louis thinks, _another person who is disappointed with me._

Louis’s surprised how fast Harry responds to Zayn’s statement. “It wasn’t his fault! Someone spiked him.” Harry exclaims, and the room finally does go quiet.

It’s at this point that Louis’s leaning as far forward as he can on his bed, trying to hear the words spoken behind the curtain. His eyes are wide as he takes in Harry’s words, but before he can compute them in his head, he’s rocking forward at a fast pace, taking everything to the floor.

Louis groans, rubbing his hip with his hand and trying to will away the pain. It’s only a second or so later until the curtain is wrenched backward, and Louis is face to face with both Harry and Zayn. He doesn’t want to see either of them right now; he feels that he’s at his lowest. Even if Harry is right about what happened, he kept on drinking, his brain never told him to stop, in fact, he’s sure that he didn’t want to. Either way, it’s his fault. It has to be.

Harry doesn’t think that, Louis knows by just looking at his surprised eyes what he really thinks. He’s concerned, of course, but there’s a slight hint of amusement dancing around the corner of his lip, as if he’s forcing himself not to laugh. Louis can only glare up at him, but he doesn’t feel so stuck in his own head anymore. Harry’s presence is enough for him to keep his unwanted thoughts at bay.

“Are you just going to stare at me, or are you going to help me get up?” Louis chides and extends his arms, and he knows that he looks so childish but he doesn’t care. What he wants right now more than anything is Harry’s touch, Harry’s _everything._ He wants to feel assured that Harry forgives him.

Harry shakes his head, but he does what Louis says, nudging Zayn to try and help him. It’s not like Louis’s too weak to get up, but he feels exhausted in other ways. Drained, maybe. But he’s thirsty too, his lips chapped and his throat sore. His head seems to have a thousand little drums inside of it, playing to their own horrible little tune. Each time this happens, he says he won’t drink. He says to himself that this has to stop. Most of the time, he knows that he doesn’t mean it. He’ll end up getting himself drunk again, sooner or later. However, this time, he does mean it. He doesn’t want to end up like this again.

Louis feels Harry’s hands resting on his back, even when Louis is safely on his bed.  His touch is enough for the drums to become quiet, but not enough for them to stop beating.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks, and Louis looks up, the same mirrored expression on both Harry and Zayn’s faces.

He doesn’t want them to treat him as if he’s a fragile object, close to breaking. But maybe he has already broken, pieces scattering around him. Now, however, he’s beginning to pick them up piece by piece, until he’s back together again.

“I’m not sure,” is all Louis can manage to say, because this is the utmost truth. He’s not okay, but then he’s not broken either.

Zayn puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You’ll get better,” he squeezes him. “And don’t worry about football for now.”

 _What?_ Louis squints at him, trying to decipher what Zayn has just said. He can’t make out quite what he means. Why does he need to worry about _that_ of all things?

He doesn’t get the chance to ask Zayn, but even if he did, he’s not sure if he wants to know the answer.

“Anyway,” Zayn’s hand drops to his side. “I have to get back now. Liam and Niall will probably be here soon by the way.” He turns on his heel, waving goodbye before the sound of a door shutting echoes through the room.

Louis’ attention drifts back to Harry immediately. He feels something tugging at him, and he knows there are some things he has to make clear. 

“Harry,” Louis starts, watching as Harry turns to look at him, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“Yeah?”

Louis bites his lip and pushes himself to say the next few words.

“I’m sorry.”

Harry doesn’t respond to this at first, but he is looking at him strangely, seeming not to have understand what Louis has said.

“You’re sorry? Why are you sorry?”

Louis feels like this might be a trick question, but then he knows that Harry can’t possibly be that mean. But he should know, he should understand the reason why he’s begging for Harry’s forgiveness. All he does is blink at him, and it makes Louis feel uneasy. He’s only been with Harry (if you could call it that, Louis’s not even sure what this is) for a short space of time and he feels like he’s already let him down on too many occasions. He’s not a good person, he understands that, but Harry’s treating him so special, so kindly. Louis doesn’t deserve it.

“I broke our promise. I said that I wouldn’t drink but _I did.”_  Louis can’t look at Harry, instead he decides to stare at his hospital bed sheet, but that only further depresses him.

Louis knows he’s always had a problem with handling his drinks, but he’s never gone so far as to end up in hospital because of it. He doesn’t want to know what Harry thinks of him now because of this.

He feels the weight of the bed drop when Harry sits next to him, his hip bumping against his own. Louis’s hands are scrunched up together, tense and rigid, but Harry leans over, holding onto Louis’s right hand until he feels relaxed again.

“I’m just as bad, you know,” Harry announces and Louis can’t believe these words.

Harry isn’t bad at all, in fact, he’s perfect. He always has been, even when the two of them were hardly acquainted, even when they were at each other’s throats. Louis would never have wanted to admit it at the time, but he knew how amazing Harry was, how talented he could be. Back then, he was jealous. Now, it only adds to the many reasons why he respects Harry, why he actually _likes h_ im.

Louis opens his mouth to argue against Harry’s words, but Harry beats him to it. “I didn’t believe you. When I saw how drunk you were last night I couldn’t think of any other explanation as to _why._ I just assumed it was because you wanted to drink. I felt like I was being betrayed but I was acting stupid. I shouldn’t have left you by yourself.”

The two boys stay side by side, each unable to say another word. Louis is glad that Harry doesn’t hate him, if Harry had decided that he had had enough of him, and then things would be different.  But he doesn’t believe for one second that Harry should blame himself for anything.

Louis squeezes Harry’s hand and places a quick kiss on his cheek. “I’m going to stop drinking properly. This time, I won’t break any promises.”

 

And Louis does keep to his promises, this time. He doesn’t go behind Harry’s back and do the opposite of what’s best for him. He can’t bear to think of letting his friends down once again, not just Harry. Not soon after he was released from hospital, he had to have a stern talk with Zayn. He realised he couldn’t get out of it, but he also felt that there was a lot in the air between them to clear. Zayn was really his best friend. He hadn’t even thought of confiding in him.

“How long has this all been going on for?”Zayn had enquired as he perched at the end of Louis’s bed, watching the boy pour a glass of water.

There wasn’t a time frame between when he was okay and when he wasn’t. Louis hadn’t even noticed how deep he was getting before it was too late. In fact, it just happened. Like a lot of things in Louis’s life, some couldn’t be properly explained.

So Louis had shrugged, but not in a non-committal way. All he wanted was to reassure Zayn that he’d be okay. He would always be okay.

“I don’t know, I can’t tell you when it started…but it will stop. For the good of the team, it will.”

Zayn had frowned at him in response and Louis stared back. He had expected a better reaction, possibly a pat on the back or a hug. He couldn’t understand why Zayn had looked so disappointed.

“No,” Zayn shook his head, “Do it for you, Louis, not just for the good of the team. _You_ come first.”

That was the problem; Louis never really did put himself first. He cared more about the team than anything else. There were times of selfishness, but he would never want to let any of his teammates down.

 

They’re all treating him like a fragile little being and it’s driving Louis up the wall.

 _“Maybe we shouldn’t push Louis too hard. He’s got enough on his plate as it is.”_ Louis’s heard this phrase, or something close to it, far too often in the last few minutes. He understands full well why they’re acting this way, but really, it’s unnerving. He’s supposed to be their Captain, but it’s beginning to feel the opposite.

Louis’s been grumpy for the duration of his team’s practice after school. The championship is the following Saturday, and it seems strange to put this together. He can’t believe it’s nearly here. After everything that has happened, he’s still going to destroy any opposing teams. But, today isn’t a good day. In fact, Louis’s had enough of these boys.

“Look, I’m a recovering alcoholic, yes. But that doesn’t mean I can’t annihilate whoever is on the pitch,” he interrupts his team; they’re all crowded in a circle without Louis.

And it’s true, he’ll admit  it, but he won’t accept the fact that he’ll play any less. He’s not going to be teetering around the field off his head. He’s learnt from his experience, besides, that incident at the club was not his fault. It was exasperating watching them try and figure this one out.

Luckily, not all of his friends have gone nuts. Zayn’s reassuring hand pressed down on Louis’s shoulder confirms this.

“You’ll be amazing, Lou,” he smiles wide, excitement dancing in his eyes, “We’re going to thrash everyone!”

Louis returns his manic grin, holding their football in his arms. At this point, he seriously thinks that Zayn’s right. He has full confidence that they will win all the games that they are in. There is no doubt in his mind about it.

He smirks, hugging the football to his chest, “Yeah and we’re going to beat lovely Harry’s team too. That will be fun.”

Zayn frowns at him and Louis knows what he wants to say. _Aren’t you two friends now?_ But he doesn’t know the half of it. He doesn’t say all of this out of spite for Harry, in fact, what he’s most looking forward to is playing with Harry, even if it is against him. Louis’s aware that he should probably tell Zayn about what’s really going on between the two of them. But he likes the fact that they’re so secretive, it’s like they’re in their own little bubble, and they don’t need anyone else to burst it just yet.

Louis’s thinking about saying something cheeky again about Harry and his team of misfits (but they’re not exactly misfits anymore, are they?) but he is unable to do so. He hadn’t noticed Harry behind him until he feels his arms wrapping around Louis’s waist, pulling him towards him.

“I heard that, you know,” Harry whispers in his ear, sending shivers down Louis’s spine.

Louis peers up at him, just beaming at the sight of him. “Good.”

And he wants to kiss him right in front of everybody; it takes a lot of will power to restrain from doing so. He doesn’t see why he can’t, there isn’t really a reason, but then it would be an awkward situation to deal with. Still, he wants Harry closer to him, and they’re certainly not going to do this in the middle of a field with people surrounding them. Louis’s not really that kind of person.

He wants to ask if Harry wants to go somewhere, he’s ready to give him the sexiest look he can muster. Harry beats him to it.

“Do you want to come around to my dorm today? Liam’s staying over at Zayn’s,” and with this Harry looks to his left, where Zayn’s face has gone blank at this statement.

“What?” he blinks, “He is?”

Harry nods, “Yeah.”

“Cool.” Zayn doesn’t seem to mind but there’s a tiny hint of a blush creeping on his cheeks. Louis turns away from him, he doesn’t want to know what he’s really thinking about.

Harry’s gaze is back on Louis, he’s waiting expectantly for an answer.

He doesn’t need Louis to say it, really. He should know that whatever he wants from Louis, he’ll have. No question about it. Louis would follow him anywhere.

 

_“Two seconds,”_ is what Harry had said before closing the door back on Louis’s face, leaving Louis to stare at the chipping paint.

He’s about to spend time with Harry properly and it’s the first time he’s ever been like this with anyone, really. But he’s excited. His hands keep on shaking every two seconds and he’s becoming overly attentive to everything around him. He can’t help it but he doesn’t want Harry to tease him about this behaviour. Louis’s been trying to hide it for a while.

Within the next few seconds, Harry opens the door once again. His shirt sleeves are pulled up to his elbows, and his hair seems to be wilder than normal. Louis stares at it in wonder and then back at Harry’s nervous face. At least it’s not just him who is in this state.

“Can I come in?” he raises an eyebrow at Harry as the younger boy snaps out of whatever state he’s in.

He mumbles an answer stepping aside to let Louis in. His dorm room is similar to his own; except there’s another bed on the opposite side of the room (which he deduces is Liam’s). There’s posters littered on the walls with bands and faces he doesn’t know or recognise. There’s a few things related to footie, a trophy that seems to be sitting precariously on the edge of a stand, a medal hung on one of the hooks on the wall.

Louis doesn’t know how, but this room just _oozes_ Harry. Everything around him either belongs to Harry or Liam, but he can tell the difference between the two. Liam’s belongings are neatly stashed away; the case isn’t the same for Harry’s.

There’s a picture on Harry’s nightstand next to his bed of Harry, Liam and Niall. It’s from the start of the beginning of the year, and Harry’s got a big scowl on his face. It’s weird how Louis feels that quite endearing now.

He turns around to face the present Harry. He’s staring at him in a way that makes him go weak at the knees and suddenly he wants to touch him, touch him and not let go.

“So what exactly did you invite me here for?” Louis asks with a wink and at first it’s a joke, just a way to calm down and breathe properly, which is a function he should be able to do. But he can’t seem to control anything; he can’t help the fire that spreads through him, he can’t extinguish it.

“It was supposed to be for a movie, but then again, I’ve had ulterior motives since you walked through my door,” Harry tilts his head at him, biting his lip, sinking his teeth in.

He doesn’t quite know how, but Harry seems to have this _pulling_ effect. Before he knows it, he’s standing so close to Harry, so close that he can feel his breath hot on his cheek.

“And what do you mean by that?” Louis asks innocently, entranced by Harry’s gaze.

Louis thinks for a second that they’ll end up spending the night going around in circles, but it’s Harry who acts on the situation. His hands are on Louis’s waist, gripping tight and stretching the material of his footie shirt. And then they’re kissing, fierce and passionate and open mouthed. Harry’s licking into his mouth and Louis’s hands are travelling up the bottom of Harry’s shirt wanting it _off-off-off_. Harry grins into the kiss, and suddenly lifts Louis up with strength that Louis didn’t realise he had. He drops Louis back down onto his bed, pulling away as Louis wraps his legs around the younger boy’s waist.

“I think your lips were made for kissing me,” Louis says breathlessly, placing one chaste kiss.

Harry snorts in response. “Really?”

_Definitely._

And then they’re back to kissing again, Louis pushing himself further forward onto Harry’s lap, not wanting to leave a gap between their bodies. His hands circle around Harry’s neck and now he’s biting down kisses, leaving red but beautiful marks.

 _Mine,_ he thinks, _all mine._

And then he has an image of when he saw Nick and Harry kissing that one time, and he bites down harder, eliciting a moan from Harry’s lips. He didn’t know he could be jealous for something that isn’t a threat anymore, but it makes him furious to think that someone else had tried to kiss Harry and it hadn’t been him.

But he could understand well enough why Nick kept on coming back for more, even after Harry said no. He almost feels bad for him. Almost.

Harry’s own hands are working against him, somehow or other he’s lost his shirt and his hand has trailed to Louis’s crotch. He grins maniacally and then he’s palming Louis through his jeans, forcing out a moan that seemed to have been trapped in his chest.

Louis grits his teeth as Harry unbuttons his jeans and makes contact, skin against skin. And then his fingers are running over the whole of his length, circling the tip. His rhythm is fast and assured (and obviously he’s done this before, Louis can just tell.)

Louis looks into Harry’s eyes and his expression is enough to make him come, the way his eyes are travelling from his own to Louis’s dick, taking him in appreciatively. He’s coming fast, pleasure spreading through him.

He breathes harshly, his eyes dragging down to Harry’s own very hard dick.

“I guess it’s payback time, huh?” he licks his lips, suggestively, and Harry goes beetroot red.

“God,” he stammers, “Yes, Lou.”

It’s the first time Harry’s used any kind of term of endearment with Louis, but Louis thinks he kind of likes it.

 

It’s official, Louis’s happiness can only go up.

His night with Harry was spectacular, and it made him realise quite a few things. He’s not sure whether he can admit that he loves him, but it’s close to it.  He’s forever thinking about him, smiling like a lunatic at the mention of his name or the sight of his pretty face. And he’s sure Zayn and some of the others have noticed. If they have, they haven’t said anything about it. Every once in a while, however, Zayn will drop a hint that makes it painfully obvious that he _must_  know.

_“That’s weird.”_

_“What?”_

_“You and Harry have matching love bites, in the same places.”_

There’s nothing much he can say after this. Most of the time he laughs awkwardly, other times he gets close to telling Zayn everything. He doesn’t know what’s stopping him; in fact, there isn’t a reason why he’s being so apprehensive about this whole situation. There’s going to be a point when he does tell Zayn, but, just not now.

He’s been thinking about letting his friend know that it’s the only thing clouding his mind. That and the championship, of course, that’s only a few days away. The Coach had wanted to talk to him and Louis about something, and he supposes it’s about the game. He’s currently standing outside of the Coach’s office, watching the people pass by him.

“He asked you to come too?” Is Harry’s greeting when he sees him. The boy’s hair is more tousled than usual, possibly because of how windy it is outside. He’s wearing a jumper that almost swamps his figure, making his legs seem skinnier than normal.

Louis nods and as he does so, the door to their Coach’s office swings open. It’s their Coach’s grave and tired face that makes Louis feel uneasy.

“Take a seat, boys,” the Coach gestures to the chairs opposite his desk as he sits back down.

Louis does as he’s told and falls into the comfort of one of the chairs. Harry sits down beside him, folding one of his legs over the other as his foot kicks Louis’s thigh, teasingly.

Harry seems to be in good spirits, and so had Louis, but something is not right with the way their Coach is looking at them.

Louis waits patiently for whatever is about to happen.

“I’m glad that the two of you seem to be good friends now. And that’s convenient; it might make things better for you, Louis,” Coach Simon states, leaning forward on his desk, hands clasped.

Louis goes still, he doesn’t understand what he’s saying, but he’s beginning to put the two pieces together. He looks out of the corner of his eye to see Harry with the same expression on his face.

“I’ve regretfully heard what happened to you, Louis, two nights ago. And I’m sorry but I can’t let you play in the championship this weekend,” the Coach finishes, and he looks truly sorry.

Louis’s running the Coach’s words over and over in his head, but he can’t understand what’s happening. He thought everything had been fixed, everything should be fine.

Wasn’t this the reason why he started drinking, anyway?

“But!” he exclaims, trying to sort the screaming words in his head into a full sentence, “But you can’t do that. I’m fine now, I am. I’ve learnt my lesson!” _I’m not going to let everyone down again. I won’t._

“We don’t know that Louis, we can’t rely on you being Captain or playing in the match in the state you’re in,” the Coach says, his words are final.

Harry moves forward on his seat, slamming his fists onto the desk. “That isn’t fair to Louis!”

The Coach shakes his head. “I really shouldn’t be letting you play either, Harry. You should be suspended for being caught drinking underage anyway.”

Louis’s brow furrows at this. He’d never heard that Harry had been caught doing anything. Besides, he hadn’t really seen Harry drinking that night. He was sure of it.

Harry goes silent at the Coach’s words for a second before his expression hardens. “Fine,” his eyes are like steel, “If you won’t let Louis play in the championship, then I won’t either.”

Louis can’t quite acknowledge what he’s hearing. He wouldn’t have ever imagined that Harry would jeopardise anything for him.

He wants to tell him that he’s being stupid, that he shouldn’t throw everything away. It’s stupid to think like it’s only one game, this is what they’ve been working on for months.  Harry didn’t need to be upset about this too.

Harry won’t change his mind though, he’s adamant about this one. He stands to his feet, pushing the chair behind him further backwards. He grabs Louis by the hand, gripping onto him tight, and pulls him out of the room.

And then they walk at this fast pace for the longest time imaginable. The silence between the two of them is killing Louis, and he’s shaking from this disaster.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he speaks up.

Harry stops in his tracks, loosening his grip on Louis’s hand.

“I did,” he pauses, tossing a look at Louis over his shoulder. “I had to.”

“No, you didn’t. I’m not happy about all of this. In fact, it sucks. It makes everything seem utterly pointless. But you don’t need to be unhappy too. I don’t want to stop you from doing something you love.” Louis pulls Harry to face him; the conflict in his mind is evident on his face.

“None of that matters. It doesn’t matter if you’re not there as well. I wanted to be in the championship so I can play a proper match with you. It’s pointless if _you’re not there_.”

Harry squeezes his hand and Louis knows instinctively that he’s made his decision. His words have really sunk deep into him, and it’s convincing him that it’s all okay. He’s just afraid about what will happen to their respective teams now that they won’t be playing on that Saturday.

“You know,” Louis muses, “By doing this you’ve just earned yourself the title ‘Best Friend-Boyfriend’. Congrats.”

 

So Harry’s not playing in the game.

Louis is guilty about that, definitely. But his guilt is beginning to subside with Harry’s method of making him forget. However, not everyone is taking the news so well.

“But that’s preposterous!” Zayn stomps around Louis’s dorm room, going back and forth in the small space.

Louis’s eating pancakes with nutella; he licks his fingers as he finishes eating. “Yup.”

“Wait, but then who is Captain?” Zayn asks stopping and freezing, realisation already setting in.

It was decided within a second that Zayn had to be the Captain of their team. He dealt with this issue beforehand, and Louis’s sure he can do it again. He trusts Zayn, always has, always will.

“That’s you, mate,” he informs him, standing up to put the empty plate away in the sink.

Zayn follows him like a confused puppy, hot on his heels.

“You seem too calm about this. Why are you so calm about this?”

It’s a good question; Louis is still working this one out himself. In the past this would have destroyed him, but he’s coping properly this time.

But he knows why. There’s no deliberation over this.

“I’m just lucky that even though I’ve lost something, I’ve gained something too,” he answers. Of course, Zayn doesn’t know what the hell he is talking about.

“I don’t understand,” is all Zayn says.

This is almost perfect timing, if he doesn’t say it now then Zayn will find out in other ways. But he wants Zayn to hear it from him.

He turns around to face his friend, a grin stretching over his face. He’s sure he probably looks like a lunatic.

“I’m in love with Harry.”

Zayn takes this surprisingly well.

 

“It’s so fucking cold,” Harry shivers beside him, wrapping his large coat around him.

Louis nods his teeth chattering as he stares out at the stadium’s pitch. He can’t believe he’s finally here, yet, he’s not getting ready to play the best game of his life. But then, he doesn’t feel like crying about this matter. He doesn’t really feel anything.

But he’s warm though, somehow. Harry’s leaning into him, and his hand is in his own. Even though he’s breathing out puffs of cold air, Harry makes things better.

“Yeah, I’m going to get hypothermia out here,” Louis replies, shivering.

Harry rolls his eyes, “Like that’s possible. Don’t be a drama queen, Lou.”

Louis punches him in the ribs and Harry fakes being hurt. Louis smiles.

It’s only a few minutes in until the first two teams come out onto the field. Louis jumps to his feet immediately, noticing Zayn running on in his Captain uniform. He is so proud all of a sudden, like a mother watching her child’s first game (and it’s kind of like that, but not quite).

“Go Zayn! Kill the bastards!” he swears loudly, ignoring the angry sounds that come after this.

Harry snorts but he’s standing up with him, joining in.

“ _Destroy them!”_

_“They’re crap, you can do it boys!”_

_“WIN BOYS WIN.”_

_“I LOVE YOUUU, ZAYN!”_

Harry stops shouting immediately, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Excuse me?”

Louis laughs quietly to himself. Harry’s jealous, it’s so cute.

He steps forward towards Harry, leaning upwards to cup his cheek.

“Yeah, but I love you more.”

 

They won the game, in the end. And they did thrash their opponents.

Louis and Harry weren’t around to see the last half. That’s possibly because they were too busy fucking in the stadium’s toilets.

 

“Don’t lie to me, Louis,” Zayn glares at him, but Louis knows that his friend doesn’t mean it, “I didn’t see you in our last match.”

Louis and Harry decided to greet the boys after the game, Louis still feels a little love-struck.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right. But I’m sure you killed them out there,” he pats Zayn on the back.

“Yeah, even us,” Liam appears next to Zayn, pouting. His football shirt is dirty with mud and even though their team has lost, he won’t stop grinning.

Zayn coos at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.”

Liam stutters on whatever he was about to say next. He looks away, Louis notices his ears are red.

“Ew,” Louis says in response, scrunching up his nose.

Zayn scoffs, “Like you two are any better.” He looks at Harry and Louis pointedly.

Louis peers up at Harry and they both sport identical smirks. Their hands thread together and they nod.

“I can’t disagree with that,” Louis wants to forever hold Harry’s hand; it’s definitely the perfect fit.

Everything is perfect with Harry. He’s sure that is one thing that will never change. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's the end ;(  
> i'm so sad. :(  
> Thanks so much for reading this, I love you all. Look out for more of my stories in the future!  
> I haven't checked this yet for mistakes, so bear with the grammatical errors.


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